Hero
by Enchanted49
Summary: Alternate Universe – Returning to England after a forced absence a young man finds the inexorable hand of fate leading him to a fight a war for a world he did not know, against an evil he could escape and for a love he could not deny.
1. Prologue

**Hero Prologue**

Harry Potter was one excited boy. For the first time, he got to go on a vacation. He had heard his relatives talking about some of the vacations they had gone on, and they all sounded wonderful. Swimming at a beach or going to an amusement park; the whole thing sounded magical to his ears. He had never been allowed to go on any other vacations. Instead, he was always left with Mrs. Figg, a neighbor of theirs who had a real obsession with cats.

Harry did not have anything against Mrs. Figg; she was a nice enough woman. He was allowed to eat three square meals a day and was only forced to do a couple menial chores each day, so he could hardly complain. But he was also forced to look through countless photo albums of all the cats Mrs. Figg had ever owned – which was a lot!

Not only that, but her house always smelled like cabbage, and Harry hated cabbage. He did not complain about the smell though. One time when his relatives had come back from a vacation, he had complained to his aunt about the smell at Mrs. Figg's place and asked why he couldn't come with them. He had been sent to his cupboard for the rest of the day and forced to eat cabbage at every meal for a whole week after that. Equally horrible, he was forced to eat it while watching his family eat all of his favorite foods. Harry learned his lesson not to complain.

This time, though, he would not be left behind with Mrs. Figg. This time, he would get to go on vacation with his relatives. He did not know anything about their destination. He had heard his aunt and uncle talking about some place called America, but he didn't know where that was. He had already been punished once for asking questions about the vacation – he was always punished for asking questions, even if it had to do with a chore he was assigned. His aunt and uncle didn't like him asking any questions.

Harry didn't mind that he didn't know all that much about the vacation; it was enough just to know that he was going. He couldn't wait.

The days crawled by for Harry, but his patience paid off as the day finally came. His aunt, uncle, and cousin all had large suitcases that they loaded into the boot of the car. Harry had only a small bag with the few extra articles of clothing he had. His clothes didn't fit him very well as they were castoffs from his cousin, Dudley. They were of similar height, but Dudley was much heavier than Harry, who was quite scrawny. His clothes hung off of him, and he had to use a length of twine as a belt to keep his pants from falling right down to his ankles.

As the car sped toward the airport, Harry excitedly peered out the window at all the scenery passing by. He had only been in a car a couple times that he could remember, so the experience in and of itself was quite exciting. He had never been for such a long ride before either, so there was quite a lot to take in from all the cars and buildings and other scenery he got to see.

It seemed to Harry like they'd hardly been driving at all when they arrived at the airport. Harry's uncle handed him his plane ticket as soon as he got out of the car saying, "Don't get lost!" The man then opened the boot of the car and unloaded all their suitcases, piling them onto a trolley.

He wheeled the trolley over to a man who took it from there after taking some information and money from his uncle. Harry held his bag and ticket close to his chest while doing his best to keep up with his family as they traversed through the airport. One of the attendants took his bag from him momentarily and placed it on a conveyer belt before he was forced to walk through a weird doorway set up in the middle of a room. Harry would have been worried about handing over his possessions, but he had observed all the people in line ahead of him go through the same process, and they all got their things back after walking through the doorway. His uncle was forced to walk back and forth through it a couple times before the thing stopped beeping at him. Harry wondered what that was all about but thought it was kind of fun.

His relatives set off after that, not bothering to make sure he was following. His aunt was holding Dudley's hand to make sure he didn't get lost, but Harry hardly expected that treatment. His aunt never touched him unless it was to throw him into his cupboard or punish him in some other way. They eventually stepped up to a counter, and Harry sidled up close enough to hear that there would be a half hour wait until the plane began boarding.

His uncle led his aunt and cousin over to some seats as they waited. Harry's eyes locked on an open seat next to his uncle, but as he took a step forward, he caught the man's gaze. His uncle's head shook from side to side, and Harry hung his head in defeat. He looked around the area and found an open seat that was not too far away and would allow him a view of his relatives so as not to lose them.

Harry whiled away the time observing the various people in the airport. He kept silent as he swung his legs slightly – they were unable to reach the ground. The time passed by slowly, but it was not that long until they were calling for boarding. A nice woman took his ticket from him with a warm smile and rubbed the top of his head lightly as he stepped into a tunnel that took him onto the plane.

His relatives were all on the plane already; he had been well behind them in line. They were all sitting together, but there was no room there for Harry. He saw people looking at their tickets and matching their seats with the labels designated on the plane. He was unsure of what he was supposed to do to find his seat, so he stood off to the side as he observed people. The nice woman who had taken the stub off his ticket entered into the plane and saw him standing there, so she helped him find his seat. He was in the last row, but he had a seat next to the window which he was excited about.

The seats next to him were filled with a couple adults, but they didn't pay Harry any mind. After a while another woman wearing the same uniform as the nice lady Harry had already met began talking in the front of the plane. After listening to her, Harry fastened his seat belt and waited for the plane to take off.

Harry stared out the window as the plane picked up speed and lifted off the ground. The whole experience was so surreal. Up until now, he had questioned whether or not this was all just an elaborate joke his relatives had decided to play on him. He never thought he would be allowed to go on vacation with them, but they were in the air now. It was too late to leave him behind. He really got to go!

He watched as the ground grew further and further away, and he was amazed at the view that was presented to him. He stared with wide eyes as they passed through clouds, and he marveled at the landscape far down on the Earth below them. It was the most amazing thing he had ever witnessed.

The flight was long. Harry spent most of the time staring out the window. There were movies playing on television sets, but Harry could not hear what was going on, so they failed to capture his interest for very long. The view was not exciting when they were over water, but Harry still found the whole experience amazing. They were served some food at one point, which Harry ate gratefully. He had never been allowed so much food at a single meal.

When land finally came into view and the plane began its decent, Harry felt a pain form in his ears. He clamped his hands over them, but it didn't lessen the piercing sensation. The pain intensified as they continued to lower closer towards the ground. Distantly, he heard a voice say something, so he opened his eyes – he couldn't even remember closing them – and turned to see the woman next to him holding something out to him.

He looked up into her face and pulled his hands down from his ears as she began speaking. "It's bubblegum, dear. It will help with your ears."

Harry knew what bubblegum was, of course, but he had never had any before. He knew it was for chewing though, and not for swallowing. He had heard his aunt telling his cousin that many times before. He took the offered piece of gum from the woman and quietly murmured, "Thank you," to her as he unwrapped it and popped the gum into his mouth.

He began chewing it and was startled at the blast of flavor that washed over his taste buds. It was delicious. More than that though, at just a couple chews he felt the pain in his ears begin to lessen. It did not disappear completely but faded greatly thanks to the constant chewing. He turned back to the woman with a smile on his face and thanked her again, much more exuberantly this time.

"You're welcome, dear," she responded. "I must say, you're the most well behaved child I have ever seen. Your parents must be quite proud of you."

Her comment made Harry's heart soar. He thought about his parents a lot even though he wasn't supposed to. As long as he didn't talk about them his aunt and uncle didn't know any better. He often wondered what his life would be like with his parents. Would they love him? Would they be proud of him? He didn't know for sure, but he was so pleased to think that this woman thought so.

He went back to looking out the window as they landed, and he waited patiently as the plane began to empty before him. He watched with some trepidation as his relatives exited while he waited for his turn. He hoped he wouldn't lose them. He didn't want to be left behind now that he was finally on vacation with them.

When the entire plane had emptied, his row began to file out. He followed after them as they walked through the airport. He had to struggle to keep up with the crowd of people, but he hoped they would lead him to his relatives. They were the only hope he had.

After several minutes the crowd began to crowd around a conveyer belt. Harry looked around the area and was finally able to locate his family. They did not look particularly pleased to see him, but that was not uncommon. He had long ago accepted the fact that he would never gain the love or approval of his family. As they said, he should just be grateful that they gave him a roof over his head and food on his plate.

After a long wait, the conveyer belt began to move and pieces of luggage began appearing on it. People began grabbing their bags off the belt, and his uncle pulled their luggage off one by one as they all came by. He loaded them onto another trolley until they had all come through, then he led his aunt and cousin towards a counter. Harry followed behind, and after talking to the man at the counter, they were all led outside and into a large structure full of cars. They were led to one car in particular and Harry saw the strange man hand a set of keys to his uncle.

He loaded the luggage into the boot of the car. Harry crawled into the backseat as his aunt and cousin got into the car and buckled his seat belt. His uncle got into the driver's seat – which was on the wrong side of the car – and they took off from there. Harry got to see a whole new set of scenery here in what he assumed was America. It was a very exciting time.

They eventually stopped before a building that was enclosed by a fence with a gate. Harry's uncle turned around in his seat to look at him. "This is where your trip ends, boy," the man said unkindly. "Since the day you first darkened our doorstep, you've been nothing but trouble. We kept you for fear of what would happen to us if we didn't, but I've had enough. Your parents were freaks, and so are you. There's no escaping it, and there's no use trying. Consequences be damned, I'll not have you leeching onto this family for the rest of your miserable life. Get out of the car."

Harry reluctantly followed his uncle's orders. Suddenly this vacation was not looking so bright. He was quite frightened at what was happening. "So long, freak!" his uncle spat out the window as he took off, tires peeling and squealing. Harry was left standing there, transfixed, watching as the car sped away and out of sight, too stunned to move or do anything. They had left him. They had really left him standing there. After a couple minutes staring down the road where his family had disappeared, Harry finally took a moment to take in his surroundings.

The opposite side of the street was lined with parked cars. He could see a couple people off in the distance at a street corner, but the street was otherwise empty of people. He turned around in a circle. He was alone, and he had no idea where he was or what he was supposed to do. He moved off to the side of the gate and sat down on the ground with his back against the fence.

He didn't know how long he sat there. It was a long time. He was startled at the proximity of the female voice behind him as a woman asked, "Can I help you, young man?"

Harry spun around to face the woman who was standing on the other side of the fence. She had dark hair piled in a bun on top of her head and brown eyes. Her face had sharp features and she had a strict look about her. When Harry did not respond, she placed her hands on her hips and asked, "Where are your parents?"

Harry stood as he replied, "My parents are dead, Ma'am."

"Who takes care of you?" she questioned in a brisk tone.

"My aunt and uncle did," Harry responded, "but they left me here."

The woman turned her gaze upwards for a moment, her lips moving wordlessly. She sighed deeply and turned her attention back to Harry. He stood up straight under her gaze. "Come on then," she finally said, opening the gate. "We've got a couple open beds yet. We'll take you in at least until things get straightened out."

With a small smile, Harry stepped through the open gate with a murmured, "Thank you, Ma'am." Inside he was elated; he would get to sleep in a real bed!

AN: iThis prologue was written by Matt, also known as, fake a smile./i In one of our many conversations I was bemoaning the fact that I missed writing and that I didn't have a good idea for a new chaptered story. I'd also mentioned the fact that I didn't think I could write actually write one to its completion. I didn't think I had the discipline, creativity or the attention span to pull it off.

He disabused me of the notion by suggesting I write a story based on a prologue that popped into his head on the drive home one day and wrote down that same afternoon. When I read it, as his beta, I was blown away, I loved it and wanted so much to know what happened to his Harry, the imagery he presented was so poignant that I was drawn in. But he didn't want anything to take away from Taking Control and I agreed with him, but we both felt this story really needed to be done.

I hope you enjoyed reading this prologue as much as I did when I read it so long ago. What follows is the story we've spent countless hours discussing and arguing over. Any credit belongs to him and any shortcomings are all my own. And now onto chapter one.


	2. Chapter 1 Magical Encounters

**Hero**

_The heroic cannot be the common, nor the common the heroic. Ralph Waldo Emmerson_

**Part One** – Return of the Savior

_The salvation of this human world lies nowhere else than in the human heart, in the human power to reflect, in human meekness, and in human responsibility. Valac Havel Czech Writer/Playwright _

**Chapter 1 Magical Encounters**

"Winnie, I really don't think this is such a good idea," Ginny hissed, grabbing onto her friend's arm and bringing her up short.

"Honestly, Ginny, it'll be fun," Winnie replied. "All the Highers from the Uni come here. Trust me, it's perfectly safe."

"I just don't feel comfortable going to a dodgy Muggle pub," Ginny argued, feeling extremely uncomfortable about being amongst so many drinking and rowdy Muggles.

She wasn't so much afraid of being able to handle herself as much as needing to. If she had to pull out her wand to defend herself, she'd be in a heap of trouble with the Ministry and face the very formidable fury of Molly Weasley. Worse than that would be her father's disappointment when he found out she'd lied about her whereabouts.

As adventurous as Ginny was, she didn't feel quite right about lying to her parents and brothers. She'd told them she would be staying the weekend with Winifred Fairfax, her Muggle-born friend and dorm mate at Hogwarts.

To be fair, it had been the truth until she arrived in Kent and Winnie told her they would actually be staying with her older sister at her flat in Oxfordshire near the university. Ginny liked Wilhelmina well enough, but she was a bit of a tart. It had gotten them in a few tight spots already, so she wasn't looking forward to going to a pub with a bunch of drunken blokes trying to chat her up.

When they had left Willie's flat the sun was a bright orange ball slowly descending over the trees as they walked along the wide, brick-laid streets of Oxfordshire, and, as they were reaching the shop lined district, the sky was in the purple haze of twilight. She'd been trying to dissuade Winnie about going to the pub during their brief walk but to no avail.

"Nothing is going to happen," Winnie insisted, shrugging off Ginny's grip. "Will you stop worrying?"

Linking their arms together, Winnie dragged her along as they followed Wilhelmina toward the pub. Above the door a round wooden sign displayed a red eagle carrying a swaddled baby in its talons below the words "Bird and Child." Taking a deep calming breath, Ginny entered the pub.

Upon crossing the threshold, Ginny was assailed by the hazy smoke, the buzz of loud conversation and the malty, pungent smell of stale beer. She pulled on her too-short skirt and then tugged on the low neckline of her blouse. She was unaccustomed to the Muggle clothing, but both Winnie and Willie assured her it was perfectly decent Muggle wear and that she would not stand out in the least. As she looked around the room at the other girls she wasn't so sure.

She kept a tight hold on Winifred's blouse as they navigated the crowd to try to find a corner to sit or stand in. The pub was crowded, and the noise was deafening, making her a bit uncomfortable. Since Willie was of Muggle age she went off to get them some pints. Whether real or imaged Ginny felt as is if every male eye in the pub was on her. Winnie, however, seemed quite content with the attention. Ginny had always thought of her as a bit boy crazy, but she was a sweet girl and could be level headed when the situation called for it. This, however, did not seem to be one of those situations.

Willie returned with the pints and handed them over. They chatted of inconsequential things, and several young men came over to chat. They would introduce themselves, and Ginny would smile politely but would not join in on the conversation, or would respond to questions with one word answers, effectively cutting off any further questions or comments.

Ginny felt the weight of someone's stare. Glancing around the room, she finally spotted a pair of bright emerald eyes looking in her direction. Startled, she immediately lowered her gaze, but peered up through her lashes a moment later.

To say that he attracted her attention was an understatement. From across the pub, she could see he was relatively tall, with raven black hair. He had a chiseled, boyishly handsome face and those eyes - those striking green eyes that stared at her through round rimmed spectacles.

He smiled at her; she blushed and hastily looked away, flustered to be caught staring. Chancing another glance in his direction a moment later, her heart sped up when she found him walking towards her, a full pint in his hand.

"Shite, Winnie, talk to me," Ginny hissed, grabbing her friend's arm to get her attention.

"What?" Winnie asked loudly, turning toward her.

"I said talk to me!"

"Why?" Winnie asked, her expression amused as she looked at Ginny. "Are you…" Her voice faded as she glanced over Ginny's shoulder before breaking into a sudden smile. "Hi."

Spinning almost guiltily, Ginny looked up.

"Um, hello," he said his eyes still on Ginny. "I thought I'd walk over and introduce myself."

His voice, with an accent she couldn't quite place, was deep and a bit scratchy. It didn't quite match the youth he portrayed but Ginny liked it instantly; it pleased her in ways she never thought someone's voice could.

Winnie's shoulders slumped at his obvious interest in Ginny and returned to the conversation with the group she was previously chatting with. Ginny felt a sense of panic at the loss of her friend's buffer between herself and the young man that was standing before her.

He pointed at her pint with his own saying, "I couldn't help but notice you've been nursing that pint for a bit. Not a drinker, are you?" Ginny shook her head in the negative. He gave a self-deprecating laugh and said, "Neither am I. I've been holding this thing since I got here; bitter, warm beer just isn't all that appealing to me." He smiled, and she noticed the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. It was endearing, and she couldn't help but return the gesture.

"You've a lovely smile." He complimented. "You seemed as out of sorts and uncomfortable here as I am."

Ginny shrugged one shoulder giving him a sheepish smile, hoping it was enough to confirm his speculations about her seeming discomfort.

"I've been trying to muster up the nerve to come over here and see if I could bring out your smile, " his free hand came up to rub at his neck in a nervous gesture that strangely put Ginny at ease.

"Thank you."

"She speaks." He teased in mock exaggeration.

She gave him a flirtatious wink and was shocked by her action. She hadn't really meant to; it was an impulsive reaction, but it seemed to break her out of the tension she initially felt at his approach.

"I can't quite place your accent. Where are you from if you don't mind my asking?" Ginny had drawn closer to him so that she could be heard above the dissonance of the crowd.

He leaned in as well dipping his head further so that he could be closer to her eye level. "I'm from Boston. I've only just arrived."

There were a few questions rolling around in her head, she was very curious about this Muggle boy – curious and very attracted. At a loss for which question to voice, Ginny took a sip from her Muggle beer and scrunched her nose in distaste; she would have preferred a butterbeer.

Gathering her courage she returned his intense gaze with equal interest. "So you've not been in England long then?" She inwardly cringed berating herself for the unnecessary question.

"I was born here, but I left when I was very young. I've only been here a week, and term at the University doesn't start for another few weeks, so I've not had a chance to pick up a British accent yet." His eyes sparkled behind his glasses

"I'm sure before long you'll be speaking like a Brit, picking up our quaint vernacular, especially if you're studying here. You'll probably have one of those upper-crust accents, all stiff and precise." He chuckled at her prediction.

His laugh was rich and deep, and she found that she liked that about him as well. He was recounting his experiences with their 'common' language. She laughed at the appropriate times but found she wasn't really paying close attention to his story. Her eyes were too busy detailing his features; his eyes were a verdant green, his cheeks held ruddy patches on his otherwise pale skin, his raven black hair was a stark contrast. His lips were full, and she watched them as he spoke, wondering how they would feel if she traced them with her fingertip.

"Look, I hope you don't think me too forward, but this really isn't my _'cup of tea'_ either, but the guys I'm rooming with insisted I get out. Would – would you like to go for a cup of coffee, um I mean a cup of tea? I know there's a tea shop a few shops down; I usually have a scone and tea there for breakfast. I've taken a liking to hot, just-out-of-the-oven scones in the mornings." He had returned to rubbing his neck, and the gesture alleviated her nervous tension just as his question put her on the alert. It was a rather strange to have such a dichotomy of feelings.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. I mean we just met. I don't really know you, and that's a bit…" she trailed off unsure how to continue. She wanted him to convince her to go with him against her better judgment. She really didn't want to miss the opportunity to get to know him, and she'd love some tea, but she didn't want to be foolish and trust a complete stranger.

"I don't even know your name," she blurted out.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Harry, Harry Potter." He held out his hand in introduction

Ginny started at his name. Here was a Yank with the name of the Wizarding World's long-dead savior. Harry Potter had been the object of her fancy for as long as she could remember. She grew up on Harry Potter stories for Merlin's sake! When she was told that he'd died in a car crash when he was merely a boy, she had cried on her father's shoulder inconsolably. And here stood a bloke with the same name of the boy she'd fancied herself in love with at the tender age of five. The irony was not lost on her, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on now. It's not that bad is it?" He responded to her laughter with mock indignation .

"No, no I'm sorry. It's just funny that you would have that name. We've a bedtime story over here about a boy named Harry Potter. I had a bit of a crush on him when I was little. Used to tell my mum I would marry him one day."

"Hero type, knight in shining armor and all that?"

"Something like that yes. Not quite a slayer of dragons, but pretty darn close."

"So what's _your_ name then?" He asked an open friendly smile on his face.

"Ginny, well Ginevra really, but no one who values his life or limbs calls me that. Just plain Ginny, Ginny Weasley," she replied holding out her hand to be enveloped by his much larger one. It was warm and calloused. It was a bit silly to like the way his hand fit in hers, but it was true nonetheless.

"About that cup of tea then, Ginny, we could tell your friends where we're going, and I promise I'll bring you back in say an hour or so? Look, I don't know anyone here, and I'm not usually this umm, talkative with girls. Fact is you're the first girl I've ever really wanted to, umm well, _talk_ to. I don't want to miss the chance to get to know you."

Ginny bit her lip. He'd mirrored her feelings exactly. She really didn't want to miss out on getting to know him either. She'd never felt such a strong attraction to anyone before. Sure she'd had her crushes here and there while away at school, but they were never enough to deter her from focusing on academics. Her hard work had paid off earning a position as Head Girl and Quidditch Captain. _ She had her wand,_ she argued. If he tried anything he'd have a taste of her Bat Bogey Hex, Statute of Secrecy be damned. Though she really didn't think she'd need it where he was concerned. There was just something about him that engendered her trust.

"All right."

"All right?" he asked with a tone of incredulity.

Ginny simply nodded in response.

"Really?" He repeated.

She nodded her head again, this time adding an indulgent smile, charmed by his boyish reaction.

"Great, that's great." Ginny was so distracted by Harry's grin that it took her a moment to realize she was staring at him.

Shaking her head to break the spell his smile seemed to cast, she excused herself to talk to the _W-sisters_. She wanted to tell them where she was going so that they were aware of her whereabouts. She didn't expect that she would be gone for more than an hour; and they could all head back to Willie's flat when she returned. She ignored Winnie's smirk and headed back towards the waiting Harry.

"Ready?" he asked when she returned.

"Yes," she smiled. "Lead the way."

Gesturing for her to walk ahead of him, Harry placed his hand at her elbow to guide her through the crowded pub and out the door. It was a warm August night, but a pleasant breeze lifted her hair and felt wonderfully cool on her skin after the oppressive heat of the pub.

Reaching into her Muggle bag for a hair clip, Ginny touched her wand reassuringly. It gave her comfort to know it was at hand if she should need it. Gathering her mass of hair in her hands, she arranged it in a messy bun and immediately felt the relief of the weight and heat of her hair on her neck.

Just as he'd said, a few shops down was a quaint little tea shop.

Harry politely held open the door for her as a bell chimed overhead. The cool air and welcoming atmosphere of the tea shop immediately dispelled any lingering thoughts she had about joining Harry for tea. Finding an empty, round, marble-top table with a pair of comfortable looking chairs, he held out the chair for her to sit.

She thanked him and took her seat. Having grown up with six rowdy and rather uncouth older brothers, she wasn't accustomed to such gallantry.

Before an awkward silence could settle upon them, an elderly woman with a starched white pinny came over to their table and greeted them warmly.

"Evenin' Luvs, my but aren't you the cute couple," she cooed.

They both blushed at her comment, but Harry seemed to recover quickly as he winked and smirked at Ginny in response, making Ginny laugh outright at his flirtatious behavior and easing her discomfort in turn.

"Names Bertie by the by, so wha' can I get ya'?" the jovial server asked.

Harry politely nodded towards Ginny for her to place her order.

"I'd like an Earl Grey and a cinnamon scone, if you have it."

"Oh my dear we have the most scrumptious scones in all of Oxfordshire, if I do say so me-self." Patting her rounded stomach with a self deprecating laugh, she continued, "I've sampled enough of 'um ta' know."

"Thank you; that would be lovely then."

"What'll you be havin' then?" The waitress turned friendly eyes towards Harry.

"Well, I've only had green tea up until now. He turned to Ginny for her opinion. "Would you recommend the Earl Grey?"

"I think you'll like it. It has a very distinct flavor and a spicy scent that I prefer." She shrugged her shoulders; just because it was her favorite tea didn't mean that he would enjoy it as well.

He turned towards their server with a wide grin. "I'll have the same then."

"Two Earl Grey's and two cinnamon scones it is then. I'll be right back with your order."

"Thank you. I'm not really a tea drinker, and I've not been able to find a decent cup of coffee since I arrived here - not quite used to it yet." He gave her a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

"Well then, I'll be happy to introduce you to British tea. You've not lived until you have high tea here."

"I'll look forward to your tutelage then."

"My tutoring skills are in high demand; don't know if I'll be able to fit you in to my busy schedule," she teased.

They bantered a bit before Ginny could come up with a topic of conversation, until she remembered him saying that he'd moved to Boston when he was very young.

"You mentioned that you were born in England?" she prompted.

"Yes, I was born somewhere in the West Country," he answered, settling back into his chair. "I lived with my aunt and uncle in Surrey until I was five, I think."

"And how did you end up in Boston?" Leaning forward she placed her elbows on the table, raising her hand to rest her chin against it.

"Well, umm," he hesitated with an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders. "I was an imposition to my relatives, so they left me at an orphanage in Boston."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She felt terribly embarrassed for having brought up what must be a painful memory.

"Don't be," he reassured her with a wave of his hand. "I won't say the orphanage was a wonderful place to grow up, but it was the best thing that ever happened to me. It, well, it kind of put a fire in my belly to succeed and to prove them wrong about me, I guess."

Ginny was surprised by the open honesty of his words and in his eyes. That he could be so forthcoming about such a personal matter was refreshing in a way that made her feel vulnerable yet privileged as well.

"What happened to your parents?"

She watched as he placed his hands on the hard marble top of the table spreading out his fingers and then retracting them again as he stared at the movements he was making, as if collecting himself. He then lifted his verdant eyes to her once more, the openness from before still present.

"They died in a car crash when I was a little over a year old," he admitted.

"Do you remember them?"

"I have vague recollections," he nodded, "certain things I think are theirs like the smell of vanilla and leather." He shrugged at his own whimsical thoughts. "But no, no actual memories or pictures, none of that."

Instinctively offering comfort Ginny placed her hand on the hand that was nearest to her.

"I'm sorry; we can talk of something else if you like."

He turned his hand over, grasping hers in turn and gently squeezing.

"No that's all right, I don't mind. It was a long time ago, and I don't remember them. I've made it a personal rule to never dwell on things I can't change."

"Good rule to live by."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't always that way. I was a bit of a stinker as a kid. I've been in more fights and scrapes than I care to admit. I was a scrawny kid when I arrived at the orphanage and I was _different_ so I got picked on a lot."

The sadness in his tone and eyes only lasted a few seconds before a bright smile split his face.

"Things turned around for me when we got a new director at the orphanage, Miss Adams. Said I was a scrapper, but that I was wasting my potential by being angry all the time. She was my anchor in the storm, so to speak, and gave me my love of books and learning. She encouraged me, pushed me to do better – gave me focus."

This time Ginny was the one to squeeze his hand.

"Man," he chuckled, shaking his head. "That's the most I've ever told anyone about myself. You're very easy to talk to, Ginny Weasley."

"Here you go dears. If you need anything just holler out for Bertie, and I'll be right out." Glancing at their entwined hands before walking away, she said, "It does me heart good to see young love, it does."

Ginny blushed crimson at their server's comment, but Harry burst out laughing.

"Hey, don't," he admonished holding onto her hand as she tried to tug it free. "We wouldn't want to disappoint Bertie."

"Oh yes, couldn't have that," Ginny rolled her eyes, her face still pink with embarrassment.

"Okay, enough about me, it's your turn now. I bet you were a cute kid," he teased.

"Well, not much to say really," she said with a shrug. Unable to talk about anything magical, she was left with few safe responses. "I'm a bit boring actually."

"How about telling me where you're from, where you go to school, your family, that kind of stuff," he suggested.

"Well, I'm from Devon –"

"Oh, you're not from around here then?" There was a bit of disappointment in his question.

"No, I'm visiting my Mu – ah my friend Winnie for the weekend. We attend the same boarding school in Scotland. I'm in my last year there."

"Oh, so you'll be going back in the fall then?"

"Yes, first of September to be exact."

"And your family?" he prompted.

"I come from a rather _large _family. I'm the youngest of seven"

"_Seven!"_ he exclaimed, open mouthed.

"Yes, _seven," _she mimicked. "All of them boys."

"Six _older_ brother's then?" he questioned.

"Yes, six over-bearing, loud, obnoxious brothers, and I love them all dearly. We're all redheads, including my Mum and Dad. Only good thing about that is we never lose each other in a crowd. See, being a redhead has its few benefits," she joked.

"You've beautiful hair," he blurted out and then smiled sheepishly giving Ginny the impression that his mouth had gotten ahead of his brain.

She lowered her eyes to the table and realized that they were still holding hands. She didn't try to tug her hand free this time though – it just felt _right_.

"Thank you. I like your hair too."

"This black mop of unruly hair? You've got to be kidding!"

"Not at all, makes a girl want to tame it," was her flirtatious response.

"By all means feel free to tame anything you want," he flirted in turn.

"Harry!" she scolded mockingly affronted.

"What I say?"

Ginny poured a dollop of cream and added sugar to her tea, lifting the cup to her mouth to hide the wide smirk that crossed her lips at his blatant flirting. She really liked this boy. Even though she knew nothing would ever come of this, what with the obstacles that lay between them. He was a Muggle, and she was a witch. That in and of itself was a great chasm and one she didn't think could be bridged easily. He would be worth it, though. She played all kinds of fanciful scenarios in her mind about a relationship with Harry, all of them more outrageous than the last. It couldn't hurt to dream, could it?

They continued their conversation as they drank their tea and ate their scones, going from topic to topic without pause or moments of awkwardness. After a break in their conversation she happened to glance at the clock on the wall that was behind Harry's right shoulder, noticing the time. They'd been there far longer than she'd planned. Where had the time gone? Gulping down the last dregs of her tea and sighing with regret, she motioned to the clock. "I need to get back to my friends. I'm sure they're worried about me."

Looking over his shoulder, Harry sighed as well. "Yeah, I guess you're right." Taking out his wallet, he left some pounds on the table next to the bill Bertie had left for them.

This time rather than taking her elbow he took her hand as he guided her from the tea shop. Ginny felt as if a flock of Snidgets were fluttering around in her stomach.

They walked in companionable silence. Ginny could see the pub sign getting closer; their time together was coming to an end, and it made her sad to think that she would ever see him again.

"So, how long are you staying in town?"

"Just the weekend," Ginny replied.

"Oh." He paused, and, after a moment Ginny turned her head to look up at him, asked, "Well, can I have your number?"

"My what?" Ginny asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.

"Your number," Harry repeated, pulling her to a stop. "Look, Ginny, I don't want this to be good-bye. I know you're going back to school, and I'll be starting university but…well, couldn't we keep in touch, talk on the phone, write?"

He was looking at her with such a hopeful expression, a look she knew was mirrored on her own face. She didn't want this to be good-bye either, but she just couldn't see how that would be possible. Ginny laughed internally at the thought of Harry receiving an owl from her at university – now that would be interesting.

Then a thought occurred to her. "Oh, you mean on the fellytone?"

"The felly – _what?_"

The confusion on his face made her aware that she had used her father's term for the Muggle device. "Telephone, I meant telephone." She chucked awkwardly.

"Umm – okay." The hand that was free came up to rub his neck again in that gesture she found so endearing. "Ginny, about what I said. Do you – would you like to keep in touch?"

Against her better judgment, against the warning bells that were going off in her head telling her this was not a good idea, knowing without a doubt that she was probably prolonging the inevitable when the differences between them would be too great to overcome and her feelings would be compromised, she nodded her head.

"Really?"

"Yes, Harry really." Ginny's cheek muscles ached. It seemed as if she'd been laughing, grinning or simply smiling at this boy since she'd met him; it made her a bit giddy to be around him.

"I really - well, I really like you. When I came over here I promised myself that I would take every opportunity that came my way, so I wouldn't have any regrets and well..."

Ginny felt such an affinity towards him at that moment, and, not knowing how else to convey her feelings, she squeezed his hand gently in understanding.

He smiled and lightly tugging on her hand as they resumed walking toward the pub. "Okay, so how are we going to do this?"

"We live a bit off the beaten path and we don't have a telephone, but I guess you could write to me at the postal office in Ottery St. Catchpole."

"How about when you're away at school?"

"That's a bit trickier. I'll have to make arrangements with the Deputy Headmistress. We've never received correspondence from a Mug – umm I mean, correspondence is very strictly monitored at my school," she hedged.

"Look, Ginny, if you're not interested, that's fine…"

"What? No, I am it's just complica – "

Suddenly Ginny's hand was violently wrenched from Harry's.

Rough hands had painfully wrapped around her throat and waist, and Ginny struggled to keep her feet as she was pulled deeper into a darkened alley.

Ginny could hear her attacker hissing instructions at Harry, but did not comprehend the words. She was suddenly aware that she was no longer holding her bag as her eyes wildly cast about; she was so concerned about getting to her wand that everything else seemed to fade from consciousness. _If she could just get a hold of her wand! _She was afraid of the repercussions of her using it against a Muggle but even more afraid of what would happen if she did not diffuse the situation quickly.

Slowly, as if coming through a fog, her senses were coming into focus. She became aware of the roughly calloused hand that gripped her throat. The acrid smell of her attacker mingled with the putrid smell of the rubbish bins that lined the alley. The too sharp bones of her attacker's emaciated body pressed painfully against her back. All of these sensations crashed around her and through her in waves, making bile pool at her throat in fear.

"Give me your wallet." Their assailant's foul breath hissed against Ginny's cheek, his grip tightening around her throat making her cry out in pain.

"Okay, you can have it, just…don't hurt her." Harry slowly brought his hand to his back pocket, walking forward, his wallet in his outstretched hand.

His grip tightened around her throat once more, causing Ginny to whimper in pain and making Harry stop in his tracks.

"What ya' take me for mate, some plonk? Throw the wallet towards me."

Ginny could feel the tensing of her attacker's body against her back as his grip tightened once again. She could sense his growing agitation in the trembling of his body against her.

"Please, let her go," Harry pleaded, throwing the wallet at Ginny's feet before putting up his hands in a sign of submission. "Please, don't hurt her. Just take the wallet and go."

As soon as the wallet hit the ground, the man released her waist and reached around behind him and then jabbed something painfully against Ginny's lower back.

"Pick it up, slowly," he ordered squeezing her throat threateningly before he released her. "Wouldn't want me gun ta go off by accident."

Ginny bent down slowly; blessedly Harry's wallet had fallen near her bag. If she could conceal her movements with her body as much as possible, she could surreptitiously open her bag and reach her wand. Something in her movements must have alerted their desperate attacker, for he started to shout obscenities at her. There was fear and desperation in his tone and it scared her far more than had there been true menace in his voice. Desperate men did desperate things.

Ginny quickly turned to face him, eyes wide, her wand steadily pointing at her attacker only to find herself staring down the barrel of his Muggle weapon.

"No!" She could hear Harry's desperate shout behind her through the rush of her own heart beat in her ears. She could feel a burst of magic surround her protectively, she watched in shock as the gun clattered from their attacker's hand as he flew into the air, landing in a heap at the far end of the alley. She stared in fascinated horror at his limp body, one of his legs contorted under him in a grotesque, unnatural appearance.

Like a puzzle coming together and forming a picture, Ginny's thoughts began to formulate and coalesce in her mind.

_Harry_ _Potter?_ _The Boy-Who-Lived!_

But he was dead! The wizarding newspaper had reported that Harry Potter had _inconceivably _died in a car crash, along with his Muggle family when he was five!

Her mind began to reel with possibilities as their conversation repeated over and over in her mind.

_They died in a car crash when I was a little over a year old._

_I lived with my aunt and uncle until I was five._

_I was __**different**__, so I got picked on a lot_

Turning towards him in disbelief, she walked with a stumbling gait as she drew nearer to him. She seemed to be searching for answers in the depths of his green eyes that now held confusion and a hint of fear. She raised the hand that still held her wand, her thumb keeping it in place as her fingers lifted the fringe of hair from his forehead.

"_Bloody hell! You're __**Harry Potter!"**_

_*****_

Harry's heart beat painfully in his chest, as he gulped in shallow breaths. Fear coalescing in the pit of his stomach. _Now he'd done it!_

The thought foremost on his mind was flight. He just wanted to get as far away from the alley and Ginny as was humanly possible. But he couldn't just leave her, not here alone and with a mugger lying unconscious not a few feet away from where they stood. At least he hoped he was just unconscious. He had to get her back to her friends where he knew she would be safe. What would she tell her friends? _Shit! _The familiar sense of shame made his stomach roil, and he could feel a cold sweat trickling down his spine. All he could hear was that voice that haunted and taunted him still, the voice that instilled doubt, insecurity and fury even after all these years, the voice of his Uncle Vernon screaming: _Freak!_

He stared at Ginny's shocked expression, waiting for the familiar look of fear or even revulsion that always followed one of his _accidents_. What he didn't expect was what she would do next.

She walked towards him on shaky legs, raising her hand; he noticed for the first time that she held a baton-like stick in her grasp. Slowly and with trembling fingers she lifted his hair and traced his lightning bolt scar with gentle fingers. No one had ever touched his scar before; it made him feel small, vulnerable. His body trembled at the contact.

He watched her closely for the reaction he knew was sure to come. The reaction he hoped he wouldn't see – not from her. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. Closing his eyes against the pain her reaction would invoke. Taking a shaky breath he steeled himself for the words of rejection and disgust.

"_Bloody hell! You're __**Harry Potter!"**_

_Yes, I'm a fre – wait! What did she just say? _

His eyes flew open as he took in a much needed deep breath. He was sure his expression was identical to hers, slacked jawed and wide eyed.

"Merlin and Morgana! You're Harry _bloody _Potter!"

She stood, hand on hips with a hurt expression upon her face. "Why didn't you tell me you were Harry Potter!"

_Why didn't I tell her I was…what the hell, I told her my name! _He looked at Ginny with concern.

The confusion and concern must have been written on his face, as she responded to the question that was running through his mind. "You've no idea what the hell I'm talking about, do you?"

He cautiously shook his head in response, afraid that the stress of the situation would make her hysterical as well as delusional.

She furrowed her brow in bewilderment for a moment, and then her eyes seemed to clear with understanding. He had no idea what was going on in that red head of hers, but he didn't have time to wonder.

He shut off all questions, fears, and insecurities; there would be time enough for that later. He did what came naturally to him. He took charge.

He stepped closer to Ginny, placing a hand on her arm. "Are you okay?" His voiced sounded gruff even to his own ears. He noticed the bruising at her throat, and he grit his teeth in anger at what she had endured in those few moments she was at the mercy of her attacker.

She nodded her head slightly in affirmation.

_Good, that's good_, he thought as he gently squeezed her upper arm trying to give her a reassuring smile, but he was sure he failed dismally.

"Stay here," he ordered and then briskly walked passed her, wanting to make sure that the mugger was all right. _Please, please be alive, _he voiced his fear to himself.

When Harry reached the mugger, he came down unto one knee and immediately noted that his leg had a bone protruding from his thigh and quickly averted his eyes. He placed his hand on the man's chest firmly and could feel the rising of his chest and the beating of his heart, though it seemed faint to him. He didn't know what the equivalent of 911 was across the pond, but he was sure someone at the pub would know.

Sighing deeply, he stood up and walked towards Ginny. She'd not moved from where he'd left her and still appeared to be in shock.

"Ginny, are you sure you're okay?" he asked once he stood in front of her again. He placed both his hands on each of her arms, turning her towards him. Her pupils were dilated, and she was taking in shallow breaths.

"Ginny, we need to get back to the pub and call the police or whatever it is you call them over here. He's breathing, but I don't know how badly he's injured. He's definitely got a broken leg; he's going to need medical attention."

That seemed to bring her out of her shocked stupor.

"No, we can't call the Muggle authorities! _Shite!_ Think Ginny!" She pulled herself from Harry's grasp and started to pace the width of the alley. He could hear her mumbling to herself, but nothing made sense. _Muggle? Is that what policemen were called over here? Ministry of Magic? Azkaban? Floo? _

"Harry, we've got to get back to Wilhelmina's flat. I think she's connected to the Floo. I've got to get a hold of Bill; I think he'll be willing to help without too many questions. At least for tonight. Tomorrow is another matter, but I'll worry about that later. Bloody hell, I'm in a lot of trouble."

She grabbed his hand and started to drag Harry out of the alley and back towards the pub. He tried to pulling on her hand to bring her to a halt and have her explain what the _hell_ she was talking about, but she kept pulling him along.

"Ginny, wait! What's a Floo? Who's Bill?" When she kept walking without answering, he jerked her to a stop, the motion turning her to face him.

"Stop. You need to tell me what's going on." He wasn't just going to go along without some answers to his questions. They didn't have time to plod around blindly.

"Harry, I'm going to ask you to trust me right now. It's for your own good, okay? Be patient, and as soon as I get a hold of Bill, he'll sort out the Muggle in the alley, and then we'll go somewhere where I can explain everything to you. Well as much as I know anyway. Can you do that for me?" Her brown eyes stared at him with such pleading and urgency, that he found himself nodding in agreement. He would trust her, _for now_.

"Good, let's go."

They were quickly at the pubs entrance. She turned toward him again. "I'm going inside to talk to my friends. Wait here; I won't be long." He nodded, though rather reluctantly.

He watched her walk into the pub with a sense of anxiety. It took all of his considerable willpower not to follow her inside. He didn't want her out of his sight. There was something about her that raised his protective instincts. He also needed action just so he could keep the thoughts that were currently racing through his mind at bay.

At the forefront was the condition of the mugger they'd left behind in the alley. He knew that the first order of business would be getting him medical attention. He wouldn't be in trouble with the authorities for defending himself and Ginny, would he? He hadn't meant to hurt him, just stop him from firing his gun. He ran both his hands in an agitated gesture through his hair. _It was self defense; of course he wouldn't be in trouble. Shit, at least he really hoped not._

Over the years Harry had learned to harness his _gift_ – unless he found himself under stress as he was in the alley. Then his _gift _would wreak havoc and take on more power than he'd intended. He remembered the first time his _gift_ had come to his defense when he'd broken the arm of one of the bullies at the orphanage when he was seven.

It all started with one of his _accidents_. One of the house-mother's had taken a disliking to his messy hair and cropped it off with a razor, leaving him with less than an inch of hair. He'd been so angry, he'd gone to bed that night fuming with rage, wishing that his hair would grow back quickly. The next morning when he awoke his hair was the same _unruly mop_ it had been before she'd cut it. She'd screamed holy hell at him the next morning, demanding to know how he had done it. He hadn't had an answer.

A few of the older boys cornered him later that day; they were taunting him and pushing him around between them. Tony, their ringleader, and the most brutal of the group was particularly vicious with his taunts and his punches. Small as he was, Harry fought back and got in a few good blows and kicks. One of Harry's blows connected, and blood started to spurt from the bully's broken nose. Tony had then clouted him a good one to the head, making Harry dizzy. Right before he swung his meaty fist to hit Harry again, he yelled, "_Freak_!" What happened next was a total blur in Harry's memory, except for the sound of snapping bone and Tony's anguished yells. The bullies had given him a wide berth after that. They still taunted him, but they stopped pushing him around.

"Damn that Winnie. Honestly, as if I'd take someone I just met to her sister's flat to _snog him senseless!" _Ginny was muttering to herself again as she exited the pub, bringing Harry back to the present. Despite the dire situation they found themselves in, he couldn't help but smile to himself. He'd have to add the word _snog_ to his list of questions for later.

She took his hand and started off at a brisk pace as she guided him across the street. "Willie's flat is not very far, thankfully - only a few of blocks." She squeezed his hand. "Are you okay? You looked a bit out of it when I came out of the pub."

"I'm fine, I was just lost in thought," he assured her.

"Harry?" Looking at her profile he noticed how she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Under other circumstances he would've found that sexy as hell, though he could still appreciate how attractive the action was.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for trusting me. As soon as I get things sorted out, well, we need to talk. Okay?"

She turned towards him slightly to catch his reaction, never once slowing her pace. Harry's long legged stride kept up with her brisk trot effortlessly. She was so petite, but there was boldness in her walk, and even though he could tell she was agitated and still upset over what happened – _could it only have been moments ago, it seemed like hours _– she'd taken charge of the situation. Something Harry wouldn't normally have allowed. It just wasn't in his nature to let others do for him. He'd been accused of being too noble for his own good on more than one occasion.

"Harry?" she continued to worry her lip with her teeth. "You're about to see some things that are probably going to defy logic and reality as _you_ know it. To be honest they may even be frightening. I need you to be patient and not go barmy about what you're going to see. I promise to answer each and every one of your questions. Can you promise me to keep your questions until after we sort things out?

Harry frowned at her; he didn't like to make promises when he didn't know exactly what he was getting himself into. But here she stood nervously awaiting his reply, and when they were back in the alley she never once looked at him with disgust or fear. She seemed to take what he'd done as a normal everyday occurrence. If she could look beyond his _gift_ then he could give her the time she needed before he started asking questions.

"All right, I promise to hold my questions until all this is sorted out. Can't promise I won't go _barmy,_ but I'll do my best."

"Thank you Harry." She gave him shaky smile and resumed walking.

A short while later they reached a block of quaint old red brick buildings.

"Here we are." She briskly climbed the brick staircase leading to a frosted glass and mahogany colored door. She walked through and led them up a carpeted staircase. Two flights of stairs later, she lead them down a wooden railed hallway to a door with a brass number 9 adhered to it. He watched as she took out the polished wooden stick, he'd seen in her hand earlier in the alley and then pointing it at the brass door knob she said, "_Alohamora_."

"Umm Ginny?"

"Just add that to your list of questions. Okay?"

"Yeah, well I have a feeling that is going to be a pretty long list," he muttered.

"It's about to get longer." Shutting the door behind them, she led him to a sofa that faced a fireplace.

Harry watched from his perch on the sofa as she pointed her baton at the fireplace and distinctly heard her say, "_Incendio_."

He looked on in fascination as a fire roared to life in front of his startled eyes. He continued to observe her in rapt fascination as she put her hand into a white pot with painted purple posies, casting what looked like ashes into the flames. As the flames turned green she practically yelled, "37 Hummingbird Way."

Then she did something that made his heart stop in his chest; kneeling down on her hands and knees, she put her head into the flames. He made to stand up to pull her out, but then sat back down with a thud as he listened to what was obviously a one sided conversation.

"_Bill, Bill!_" She screeched. "Bill, oh for Merlin's sake! Well, I'm sorry I spoiled your little tryst, but I'm in trouble! Shite! Bill, wait, let me explain! Okay, okay, I'm standing back."

As she stood up from her knees, Harry realized, rather belatedly, that he missed the opportunity to appreciate the view.

"Umm, Bill's coming through." She shrugged her shoulders to his quirked brow.

She stood a few feet from the fireplace as he sat on the couch awaiting the arrival of _Bill. _Almost instantly the green flames seemed to fill the expanded fireplace, and a redheaded young man walk through.

He strode over to Ginny and immediately took her in his arms. "Merlin, Ginny are you all right?"

"Oh, Bill, I'm so glad you're here. I was so scared!" Whatever courage Ginny was holding onto seemed to give way in what Harry assumed was one of her brother's arms. He watched her trembling shoulders as her older brother stroked her hair.

"Sprite? What happened?" her brother tried to soothe.

"He attacked me - and then he pulled a Muggle weapon - and then it was over. All I could think to do was to Floo you." Her half phrased jumbled explanation ended on a sob.

Suddenly, the tall redhead seemed to notice Harry sitting on the couch, and he watched with trepidation as the blue eyes narrowed in righteous fury. He extricated Ginny from his arms and placed her behind him, and in one stride reached Harry, grabbing his shirt front and pulling him off the couch.

"You son of a bitch!" He pulled his arm back to land what Harry was sure would be one vicious punch. All Harry had time to do was close his eyes in preparation for the blow. He heard Ginny yell _Petrificus Totalus. _When the punch he was expecting didn't connect, Harry opened one eye, and then they both opened wide at the sight before him.

Standing there, immobile with his arm frozen in the forward motion of a right hook, stood Ginny's brother.

"Not him! If it wasn't for him who knows what would have happened," she admonished. "Typical Weasley, hex first ask questions later!"

There stood Ginny, wooden stick in her hand, shaking it at her brother in rebuke.

"Before I release you, I need you to be calm while I explain what happened. I also need you to promise not to lecture me tonight, Floo the horde or ask too many questions. I promise you that I'll answer all your questions tomorrow, but right now we're in a fair bit of trouble, and I need your help." Harry watched in fascination as she took on a commanding posture in front of her much larger, formidable looking brother.

"Blink once if you agree." Her brother did not blink, either because he couldn't or wouldn't agree.

"Please, Bill. You can lecture me all you want tomorrow. Just please, please don't call the horde or tell Mum and especially not Dad." If it were Harry she was pleading with, he knew he'd be helpless in the face of those doe brown eyes.

After a moment's hesitation, her brother blinked his eyes once in agreement.

With a wide smile she raised her stick again as Harry heard her say, "_Finite Incantatem_."

Standing on tip-toes she threw her arms around her brother's neck. "Thank you, Bill."

Turning to Harry she introduced them. "Bill, this is Harry. Harry, this is my brother, Bill."

Harry cautiously held out his hand. With a slight hesitation on his part and nudge of Ginny's elbow to his stomach, Bill held out his hand in turn. Harry felt the hard squeeze of his hand and returned the gesture. He stared down Ginny's brother, not willing to give in to what Harry supposed was the threat of bodily harm.

With a feral smile, Bill released his hand, "I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but under the circumstances it would be a lie."

"Bill, please. Don't take this out on Harry." Ginny had placed a calming hand on her brother's forearm, her eyes again pleading for her brother's patience.

"Give me the abridged version of your story. First off, what the bloody hell are you doing in Oxfordshire? You were supposed to be in Kent."

"That part will have to wait for tomorrow. Okay? I need you to help us first."

"All right, tell me what you need," he agreed, Harry noted, with forced calm.

She sighed deeply and began. "There's a Muggle man unconscious in an alley a few stores down from the Bird and Child pub. Harry says he has a broken leg, but other than that we don't know how badly hurt he is. Bill, I need you to get him sorted out. We can't have the Ministry find out we used Magic in front of a Muggle; I don't want to get Dad in trouble at work."

_There were those words again. Magic and Muggle._

At the conclusion of her explanation Bill's calm demeanor seemed to break. "What the bloody hell! Were you in a pub Ginevra?" Bill was shaking her roughly by the shoulders, yelling something about meat eaters or something else just as ridiculous to Harry's ears. _Harry saw red. _Stepping between them, he effectively cut Ginny off from her bother and placed her behind him.

"That's enough. She didn't do anything wrong. We were just coming back from a tea shop when that guy just came out of nowhere and grabbed Ginny." Harry tried to placate. Ginny was warily looking over Harry's shoulder at her brother, her hands at his waist.

"So help me Godric, if you lied to us just so you could go out on a date with a Muggle…" Suddenly her brother's eyes seemed to zero in on her throat, noticing the bruise around her neck for the first time. He hissed an obscenity and a stick much longer than Ginny's seemed to materialize in his hand. Harry saw him point the baton-like stick at her neck and whisper some word in Latin he didn't quite catch and watched, yet again in fascination, as the bruise seemed to fade before his very eyes. His list of questions was getting longer by the minute.

Bill took his sister into his arms, whispering soothingly, "That feel better Sprite?"

"Yes, Bill, thank you." Harry noticed as her fiery hair swayed across the small of her back as she nodded, her brother stroked the length of her mane of hair in a soothing motion

"I need to _sort out this Muggle of yours_. Are you going to be okay?" Ginny nodded her head against her brother's chest in response. It made her seem so childlike, so small and vulnerable within the circle of her brother's arms.

"He might be sporting a few more bruises before I drop him off at the Muggle hospital though," Bill growled but continued to stroke her hair soothingly. "Be prepared for the lecture of your life tomorrow. I'll want answers," her brother warned as he placed his sister at arms-length and stepped away from her.

"You said he was in an alley between a tea shop and the Bird and Child right?" Bill asked, an inscrutable, determined expression upon his handsome face.

Ginny simply nodded.

With that he lowered the stick to his side, turned on his heel and disappeared with a pop.

"Ginny?"

She'd been staring at the space where her brother was standing just moments before. She turned to face him. "Yes?"

"That list? It just got longer."

AN: There are quite a few people I need to thank but most particularly Matt aka fake a smile. He keeps me in check, with humor, sarcasm and his own brand of cyber butt kicking. This is originally his story and I've some very large shoes to fill. Since I'm his beta for the latter part of Taking Control and its sequel Free Life, being on the other side of that process has been quite the adjustment, but I think we've finally hit our stride.

For this chapter thanks also go to Lemondrop aka the lovely Jane, Daron aka Princess Potter, thanks ladies for your suggestions and comments.


	3. Chapter 2 You're a Wizard Harry

**Chapter 2 You're a Wizard Harry**

_Whenever you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. ~Sir Arthur Conan Doyle_

Harry plopped down onto the entirely too feminine floral print sofa as the absurdity of the situation came crashing down on him with a vengeance. He slumped forward, elbows on his knees as he grasped a fistful of hair in each hand.

After all he had just seen and heard that evening, after all the years of accidentalbursts of _who-knew-what _and after all the years of feeling like a _Freak_, he finally had a chance to get some answers_. _ All the extraordinary things he'd seen tonight, were they related to the things he could do?

But where to start, what questions should he ask first?

He wanted to know how a person could put their head in a flaming fireplace without getting burned or travel through one for that matter. He wanted to know how it was possible to petrify someone with a wooden stick and a Latin phrase. Stringing all these questions together, the one word that kept recurring throughout the evening was the one word that kept ringing in his head: _Magic._

Harry had spent a considerable amount of his life in solitude. His very nature seemed to separate him from others. First with his mother's family and then at the orphanage, his isolation forced him to reflect upon the imponderable, insensible questions that ruled his life. There was very little that Harry could count on in life, but of two things he was certain he could rely; his intellect and his strength will. These were the tools that guided him, that drove him to control his _gift_ and reign it to his will and bidding.

He felt Ginny's small hand upon his knee and turned to face her. Ginny was the key, the one who could answer his questions. She was the one person who could tell him about his _gift._ No, not his _gift, _it had a name now – his _magic._

"I'm ready for those questions now," he told her solemnly.

He watched her take in a deep breath as she turned concerned eyes towards him. "I know. I've a lot to tell you. But I don't think this is the place to have this conversation. My friends will be back, and this is probably going to take a while."

She lowered her lashes, and her cheeks took on a slight blush. He found that the light shading of pink on her skin was very becoming.

Turning her gaze to him once more, he saw the stubborn lift of her chin. "I sort of led them to believe that we were coming back here to snog…" she trailed off, the pink of her cheeks turning scarlet now.

"That was very low on my list of questions, but what exactly is a _snog?_"

"Oh, umm, well, if you must know, that's what we call an intense kissing session," she stammered out.

"You can '_snog me senseless'_ later, questions first." Harry winked and then laughed as he watched her face flame. He'd definitely provoke her embarrassment in the future just so he could see her face turn that lovely shade of red. Ignoring his last comment, Ginny stood from the couch and held her hand out to him. Once he was standing, she took both his hands in hers and gazed into his eyes earnestly. "We're going to Side-Along Apparate to Devon where I live," she started.

"I'm sorry, Side-Along Apparation, what's that?" he interrupted.

"Oh, sorry that's a form of wizarding travel," she explained. "The place I have in mind is secluded, and we won't be interrupted there. I think it's the best place to have this discussion." She hesitated a moment before continuing, "Side--Along Apparation is going to feel uncomfortable."

She took another deep breath and began to explain. "The first thing you'll notice is that everything will go black - best to keep your eyes closed. Then you'll feel a tightening of your chest as if a great weight is pressing down. You may also feel a strong pressure in your eyes and your eardrums. Bill explains it as the effect of traveling faster than the speed of light. When I tell you to open your eyes, you'll find yourself in a clearing near a river."

_That didn't sound uncomfortable, that sounded downright painful. He'd much rather Teleport._

She looked deeply into his eyes as she explained what he was going to experience as if she wanted to ascertain his ability to process what she was saying. "Got it."

"Good." She nodded then lifted her chin again in determination.

"All right then, I need you to grab onto my left arm tightly. I'm going to use my wand to Side-Along Apparate us to Devon."

He linked his arm through hers holding on tightly but trying to be as gentle as possible in turn.

"Close your eyes." Following her edict, his eyelids fluttered closed. "We'll go on the count of three. Ready?"

He nodded his head, eyes still closed, and took a deep breath in preparation as she slowly began her count. "One, two, and _three_..."

No amount of explanation would have prepared him for what came next. It was one thing to understand the words, quite another to experience the too-painful constriction of his chest and the inability to take in a full, unfettered breath. The pressure in his eyes, ears and head was almost unbearable, but just as quickly as it began, it was over. Harry felt as if he'd just been shot out of a rocket. If he were to describe what his body was currently feeling he would say that his insides felt as if they were all stuck to his spine by the force of speed that no human body should ever be subjected to.

Harry took several gasping breaths, trying to stave off the nausea that was threatening to bring up the contents in his stomach.

_Apparation and Teleportation: Same end result vastly different experience._

"Harry? Are you all right? You can open your eyes now." Ginny's concerned voice came from directly in front of him.

Harry opened his eyes to stare directly at Ginny's lovely face, her brow furrowed in concern.

"_I never want to do that again_!"

"I was never very keen on it either. We avoid Side-Along as much as possible. It's much better when you're in control."

"That's my personal philosophy as well." Looking down upon her, he was struck again with the thought of how petite she was, and yet her quiet strength seemed quite formidable to him.

He lifted his eyes from hers and took note of his surroundings. They were indeed by a river. While there were some trees surrounding the area, they did not block the full moon's glow that cast an eerie silver light on all it touched. He could hear the rustling of the leaves in the summer breeze and the soft lapping of the water against the river bank as it flowed past. He glanced up at the night sky and was awed by the blanket of stars. Having been raised in Boston, he'd never seen but a handful of stars that weren't obscured by city lights. It was breathtaking.

He returned his gaze to Ginny; her skin seemed luminescent, ethereal. At that very moment he could believe that she was indeed a magical, fey creature. With her skin aglow and her fiery red hair, her brother had called her a Sprite, and she was. Magical, fantastical _– beautiful_.

Ginny cast her eyes about the clearing. Taking his hand she walked him over to a large, hollowed-out log that lay across the river's edge. Wand still in hand she pointed it at the deadwood and it changed before his eyes into a cushy brown sofa. She sat and tugged at Harry's hand until he sat alongside her on the surprisingly comfortable couch that had once been a log.

_Now there was a neat magic trick, changing a log into a sofa._

Mumbling a phrase in Latin he didn't quite catch, she waved her wand at the branches that were directly above them and conjured paper lanterns that shown with a soft glow, casting swaying shadows from the warm August breeze.

"We might as well be comfortable," she explained with a sheepish shrug. "I'm ready for your questions now."

Where to start though? He rifled through his mind on all he'd seen and heard that night and latched onto the one thing that would answer his most pressing question, one that would naturally lead into the long chain of questions to follow; o_n to the heart of the matter._

"You keep using the word Magic. Is that what you are, Magical?"

She simply nodded her head.

"Am I -" He paused almost afraid to ask the question. His need for an answer, however, overrode any trepidation. "Am I Magical too?"

She gave him a brilliant smile. "You're a wizard Harry."

"So, umm, that makes you a…"

"Witch? Yes, Harry, I'm a witch."

While he was expecting the response, it still threw him for a proverbial loop and made his head spin. They sat in silence as he pondered his next question.

"Your magic stick…"

"Wand, Harry, not magic stick," she corrected with a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, yeah, your wand," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Do all witches and wizards use one to do magic?"

"Yes," she answered concisely.

"How do you know I'm really a wizard if I don't use a wand?"

"That's a fair question," she paused to contemplate her answer. "What you performed back in the alley is what we call wandless or maybe even accidental magic. Accidental magic is usually manifested by magical children. Once they obtain a wand, bouts of accidental magic taper off and then disappear all together," she explained.

"Okay, I'll bite, if there is wandless and accidental magic, why would you ever need a wand?"

"Accidental magic is just that, accidental, and wandless magic is rare - very rare. In fact I only know of one person who can actually perform it and at that within limits."

"So the wand is…"

"The focus of our magic. A wand itself is infused with magical elements that can be predisposed to certain areas of magic. For example my wand is made of ten inch hazel with a Chimaeras' scale which, according to the wand-maker, is good for just about any area of magic." She shrugged her shoulders apologetically. "But there's a lot of lore and legend associated with wands, so fact and fairy tale are sometimes intermingled."

He nodded his head in understanding, and then clarified for his own assimilation "So what you're saying is that the wand is a conduit to your magic?"

"Succinctly put, yes."

"So then what's with all the Latin abracadabra mumbo jumbo?"

She stared at him in confusion and then gave a short, sharp laugh. "That's actually a great question and something that was only recently covered in my NEWT's level Charms class on magical theory this last semester. But to answer in the simplest terms, we use Latin words and phrases to cast spells."

"But why Latin and not say, Italian or English?"

"It unifies spells by the use of a common language. So that when I, or anyone for that matter, say _Lumos,"_ she lifted her wand giving it a swish as a small beam of light shone from its tip.

"You have light," he supplied amusedly. "I would imagine it would also avoid the unintentional casting of a spell. So that if you're holding a wand in your hand and say the word fire in casual conversation; you're not going to accidentally have fire shooting out of it."

"Exactly, good point," she acknowledged. "To expand on that a bit, Latin is the language that's been used since before Merlin's time. It's simply a tool we utilize to focus our magic." She paused for a moment in thought. "Well there is also intent to be considered. Intent is another component in casting spells. Transfiguration, for example, requires only a few incantations since it's all about focusing your intent on the object that is being transfigured."

They sat in silence while Harry absorbed the information he'd heard so far. Ginny didn't try to break the lull in conversation with mindless chatter but allowed him to assimilate and digest at his own leisure. He rather liked that about her.

He turned to look upon the black and gray silhouettes that were created by the trees and rocks in the areas beyond the illumination cast by the magical lanterns Ginny had created. They seemed macabre-like, something you might find in a story by Edgar Allen Poe or Washington Irving. He gave an internal chuckle at his fanciful thoughts of headless horsemen and fiery jack-o-lanterns, which in a way seemed appropriate to the situation he found himself in

Turning once more towards Ginny who was waiting patiently, he chose to refocus his questions for now, "You said that Latin was the common language of spells, so it follows that England isn't the only place in Europe with magical people?"

"Not only Europe - all over the world," she corrected.

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Well that doesn't make any sense. If that's so, how come I never met up with any wizards and witches back in Boston? Don't they have magic schools in Boston? If I was magical wouldn't they have approached me? Or do magical parents enroll their children in magical schools and since I was an orphan I didn't have anyone to enroll me…"

"Harry, hold your Hippogriffs." She placed a hand on his forearm forestalling any more questions. "Let's tackle one question at a time. Okay?" She waited for him to nod his head before continuing.

"I honestly don't know why you never came across any magical folk back in Boston, other than the fact that you never had to save anyone from a mugger before," she teased bumping her shoulder with his. "As far as your not being approached by a magical school I can only really theorize."

"By all means theorize away," he conceded.

"Well first off, I can't attest to the way things work outside of Europe," she clarified.

"Okay, theory and conjecture, with a smattering of facts. Got it, continue."

She gave him a mock glare and a smack on the arm for good measure before settling back comfortably on their conjured sofa.

"Well, when a magical child is born in Britain their name is magically inscribed in the _Hogwarts' Book of Names_. It's kept in the headmaster's office, I believe, and when the child turns eleven he receives his acceptance letter to attend Hogwarts," Ginny explained.

"So to answer one of your many questions, no, a magical parent doesn't enroll a child in a magical school. Add to that the fact that there are magical children who are Muggleborn."

"I'd forgotten about that question, it was on my _long list. _You've mentioned the word Muggle several times tonight; what does it mean exactly?"

"Muggle is the term we use for non-magical folk."

"Okay well that answers that quandary," he chuckled. He thought back to the questions he'd spewed out earlier and remember to ask, "So why wasn't I approached by a wizarding school in Boston, you never gave me your theory on that one?"

"Again this is just conjecture on my part, but, if you were down in the _Hogwarts' Book of Names_ you wouldn't have been listed in an American wizarding school, they wouldn't have known about you to seek you out."

"So if I was in the _Book of Names_ as you say, how come I never received a letter from Hogwarts?" was his rejoinder.

"I don't really know, other than being separated by the Atlantic Ocean. We could always ask the current headmaster of Hogwarts. If he doesn't know I don't know who would." She paused briefly before continuing, "Honestly Harry I've no idea why such a powerful magical object wouldn't be able to find a child it had inscribed in its pages regardless of distance."

"Well, it's as good a theory as any, and if you ever do get the chance to ask your headmaster, I'd really like to know."

"Maybe you'll be able to ask Professor Dumbledore yourself one day, Harry." There was a question in her statement, one that was tinged with a bit of hopefulness as well.

"Who knows, maybe. I mean if someone had told me this morning I'd be having a conversation with a pretty redhead that just happened to be a witch, I'd have told them they were bonkers," he laughed at the total absurdity of his current situation.

"I know what you mean. If someone had told me I'd be talking to Harry Potter today, I'd have thought they were barmy too," she sympathized as she laughed right along with him.

His mind returned to that moment in the alley when she'd shouted his name as if she'd just realized who he was.

_You're Harry Bloody Potter! _

"Ginny?"

His tone must have been so serious that she stopped laughing abruptly, "Umm, yes?"

"In the alley," he stopped not sure what he wanted to ask. "You said my name, almost like a curse, and just now, you made it sound as if talking to me was a momentous occasion or something…" he trailed off not really asking a question, but again not really knowing what he wanted to ask.

She worried her bottom lip a look of worry clouding her features. "Well," she hesitated, looking away from him. She stood up and walked a few steps towards the river's edge with her back towards him.

Harry leant forward resting his forearms on his thighs as he stared at her back wondering what could possibly be so upsetting about his name.

She turned around to face him but did not return to the couch. "Do you remember back in the pub when I was surprised that your name was Harry Potter?"

He thought back to their conversation earlier that evening.

"'_We've a bedtime story over here about a boy named Harry Potter; I had a bit of a crush on him when I was little. Used to tell my mum I would marry him one day."_

"_Hero type, knight in shining armor and all that?" _

"Yes, something about Harry Potter and a bedtime story," he summarized

"Well it is a bedtime story mums tell their children. The thing is, Harry, it's based on a boy who at the age of fifteen months defeated the dark wizard. That baby's name was Harry Potter, and he came to be known as The-Boy-Who-Lived."

He had a feeling he wasn't going to like what she was going to say next.

"You're that boy Harry. You're _The-Boy-Who-Lived._"

"Okay," he strung out the word questioningly, "what does that mean exactly?"

She walked back towards him and sat down, taking his hand in hers and looking into his eye earnestly, compassion shining in her gaze. "Harry back in the tea shop you told me that your parents died in a car crash."

"That's how I got this." He pointed to the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. "I don't remember it though."

"No, Harry, your parents didn't die in a car crash. They died trying to protect you; they died so you could live."

Harry sat in stunned silence. Of all the things he'd seen and heard today this was perhaps the most shocking. Everything he thought to be true, everything he'd been told by his relatives, was a lie.

"Harry, I know you've been hit with way too much information tonight, but…" she paused. It seemed to Harry as if she was searching for the easiest way to land her next bombshell.

"Look, it's up to you, we don't have to talk about this now. It's not as if much is known about what happened that night. The events of that evening were sealed by the Ministry and are now a part of the Department of Mysteries. What happened to you after that night is all shrouded in mystery. You just seemed to disappear. I can tell you what little I do know at a later time. I just wanted you to know that in our world you're a hero, Harry.

Postponing the knowledge wouldn't really lessen the hearing of it later on. Might was well get it over with now.

Old wounds were about to be opened, but he would finally know, what happened to his parents. He was not allowed to talk about them at his aunt's home; he was never allowed to ask questions or even cry about them. Whenever there was even the hint of longing on Harry's part to know about his family, it was met with severe punishment. As a little boy he came to associate his parents with pain, yearning and finally apathy. He could not experience pain if he did not feel.

He felt a tightening in his chest and took a slow, deep breath trying to alleviate the constriction but to no avail. Taking another calm, determined breath, he said, "Tell me what you do know."

He could see the doubt and concern on her face and spoke up before she could argue. "It's okay, Ginny. In for a penny, in for a pound – yeah?" He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

His _reassuring_ smile must not have been very convincing. "If you're sure…"

His smile was more genuine the second time. "I'm sure."

"Do – well, I'm not sure where to start actually. Maybe, I'm not the person to tell you this. What I know is what I've been told in bedtime stories and overheard conversations between my parents and their friends at the dinner table."

"I don't really know what to ask either. Well maybe, I mean, were my parents magical or um Muggle?"

"Magical. James Potter was from an old pureblood family. I'm not sure about your mother, though I think she was Muggleborn," she answered with a sort of relief in her tone, he assumed because she had a question to answer.

"Pureblood?"

"Umm that's what we call magical families who've not married Muggles or Muggleborns. I'm not sure how far back one has to go to be considered a pureblood." She shrugged. "It never really mattered to me or my family one way or another, but in our world some wizarding families take it very seriously. It was that prejudice actually that led to the rise of the dark wizard that killed your family and gave you that scar."

His hand went automatically to his scar as he rubbed it with his fingers in a nervous gesture.

"Ironically, the wizard that gave you that scar," the hand that wasn't holding his pointed to his forehead, "was a Half Blood, with one wizard and one muggle parent, who managed to recruit followers to his side. He acquired followers by force of will. Some were drawn in by the promise of power or their belief in the pureblood ideology; others were brought to his side through force and intimidation. It was what my parents called a very dark time." As she spoke she stroked the back of his hand with her thumb in a soothing motion.

"Why?" He cleared his throat. For the first time that evening he was feeling his emotions getting the better of him. "Why would he kill my parents?"

"No one knows why Voldemort went after your parents, maybe because they were loyal followers of Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort ever feared, or maybe because they refused to be recruited."

"Is that his name, Voldemort, the name of the Dark Wizard who killed my parents?"

"That's the name he gave himself, to instill fear. Few people dare to speak it, as if saying his name will call down his wrath upon them. It's all rubbish. He's referred to as the Dark Lord by his followers or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who, by all those who fear him."

"You don't seem to have that problem though?"

At his question Ginny sighed deeply and turned her face away from him, staring towards the river. "I lost my fear of Tom a long time ago." He could only see her profile, but from that vantage point he could see the corners of her mouth turned down in a sort of painful grimace. Her nostrils flared as she took in shallow breaths. She lifted a hand to the cheek that was opposite his line of vision as if wiping away a tear. He wanted to take her into his arms and offer comfort. He wanted her to tell him who Tom was, though he could guess, and he wanted her to tell him what event precipitated her loss of fear for such an evil, by her own terms, dark wizard. She lifted her chin in that determined way he was now associating with her and turned to face him once more.

"That's his real name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. A Half-Blood wizard who advocated the total annihilation of his own kind – that's poetic justice, to have all those pure-blooded Death Eaters groveling at the feet of a half-blood. Beautiful irony."

"Death Eaters, is that what he called his followers? Seems just as ridiculous as Voldemort," Harry scoffed.

"Yes, that's what he called his followers, a group of sadistic thugs the lot of them. When Voldemort was defeated, they scattered like a bunch of scarab beetles during a tomb raid. A few of the more fanatical, the _faithful,_ were sentenced to Azakban. That's our wizarding prison. Others sang like Fwoopers, naming names and in the processes obtaining complete pardons or reduced sentences. A fair few claimed that they were Imperiused, their money and standing in wizarding society greasing the proverbial wheels of justice."

"Imperiused?" he questioned.

"It's an Unforgivable curse and punishable to the greatest extent of our law. It renders the victim under the complete will of the caster," she clarified. "The caster could ask their victim to kill, and they'd do so without thought, helpless against power of the curse." Ginny lowered her eyes, then lifted them staring off into space. "There are three Unforgivables: the killing curse, the torture curse and the Imperius. All are equally repulsive, but to me the Imperius is the most Unforgivable of all."

She didn't expound on why she thought that was so, but he could certainly understand why she did. To be commanded against your will to hurt or even kill someone - it was inconceivable to him.

He nodded his head absently in understanding, pausing once more to take in everything she'd said thus far. Disengaging his hand from hers and placing it on her lap, it was his turn to walk towards the edge of the river. He looked into the inky black water as if the answers to all of his questions could be found there.

"All my life, I hated my parents for leaving me, for consigning me to the hell that was living in my relatives' home." He was so lost in his thoughts that he started when he felt Ginny place one hand on his shoulder as the other traced down his arm to take his hand in hers. He shivered at the contact and was surprised how much the gesture soothed him.

"I need to know, Ginny. I need to know what happened that night."

"Come sit down, Harry." She tugged on his hand until he followed her back to the couch. "Are you okay? We can take a break; we don't have to do this now."

He was grateful for her consideration, but he didn't want to stop now that he was so close to knowing about his parents' fate.

"I'm okay, Ginny. Please, go ahead."

She looked at him steadily, as if debating the truth behind his words. She squeezed his hand gently before continuing.

"Very little is known of the actual events, but what is known is that your father died trying to protect your mother and you. He confronted Voldemort knowing full well that he was facing certain death so that you could both get to safety." She paused again to gauge his reaction and at his nod continued with her recounting of the events of that night. "It was rumored that your family was targeted by Voldemort and went into hiding. They were put under the Fidelius Charm…"

"Fidelius? A loyalty charm or sorts?" he interrupted to ask.

"Yes exactly, the Fidelius Charm basically hid your parents from sight; they were untraceable to all but the Secret Keeper, the person that the secret was entrusted to. A Secret Keeper was chosen, and only he could have broken the charm as the secret is kept in his very soul, but the charm is only as infallible as the person you put your trust in. Your parents chose the wrong person; he betrayed them to Voldemort."

_Betrayed. His parents had been betrayed, killed by a Dark Wizard. _ His world seemed to narrow and all he could hear was the sound of Ginny's voice as she retold the events of that terrible night. _The night his parents were killed._

"These are all things that were told and retold in the wizarding papers, but Dumbledore is the only one who knows some of what really occurred, and he's never spoken to the wizarding press about it. I don't think even he fully knows what happened, but what is said is that your mother also faced Voldemort pleading for her baby's life."

"My mother, what – " he cleared his throat once more. "What happened to her?"

"She…she died protecting you, Harry. They both died so that you could live. They loved you so much that they – they died for you." He could hear the emotion in her voice, and he could see unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

"And when Voldemort pointed his wand at you and cast the third killing curse that evening, somehow the spell rebounded. They never found his body or any traces of him in the house, which was all but practically destroyed. The papers say that you were found among the ruins, that you survived, that you were…_that_ you were – _The-Boy-Who-Lived."_

He could see that she was moved by the things she was recounting, and, without thought, Harry reached over and gathered her into his arms to give and receive comfort in turn.

_They didn't die in a car crash in a drunken stupor as his aunt and uncle had claimed. They died to protect him! They died because they loved him!_

_All those lonely, unloved, years hidden away in a cupboard under the stairs like so much rubbish, the only touch he'd ever known was pain. The only words he ever heard were castigating and cruel. All the bitterness he had secretly harbored in his heart for the parents that had abandoned him – drunken, worthless, freaks. Cast aside and left to languish, unloved and unwanted by the only family he had known. Raised in the sterile apathetic environment of the state run orphanage, where he clung to the meager praise and affection that was doled out so sparingly._

_They loved him, loved him enough to die for him. They were the heroes, not Harry. He was vaguely aware of the soothing fingers that ran lightly through his hair and the hand that drew circles across his back. He felt the tears that were now wetly adhering to her neck and the warmth of her body against his. The scent of her skin enveloped him and soothed him as nothing ever had. He was only vaguely aware of her voice and its peaceful cadence. _

_And then he knew no more as he slept, surrounded by the gentle sounds of the balmy August evening and the comfort of Ginny's arms._

*

Harry awoke with a start to the sound of screeching and the flutter of wings near his head.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed as his body lurched at the unexpected disturbance, managing to fall face first on the floor with an expelled, "Oof!" as the wind was knocked out of him.

"Bugger all, that hurt!"

There were a series of hoots that Harry would have sworn was laughter coming from the owl that was now perched a few feet away. "If I knew how, I'd turn you into a feather-duster you damn cuckoo bird!" Harry grouched under his breath as he dragged himself from off the floor.

Harry smiled.

It hadn't been a dream; he'd not stepped through a wardrobe into an imaginary magical world of lions and witches. All that he had seen and heard was true and real and damned brilliant. And while not imagined it was certainly magical and there was most definitely a witch.

When Harry had awoken in the clearing the previous morning, Ginny was nestled in his arms as if she belonged there all along. He'd taken the opportunity to observe her in her sleep. The dark crescent lashes along her cheeks that were tipped with a reddish gold. Taking note of the light smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks – smiling when he'd lost track several times. He admired her plump pink lips and the complexion he was sure was as soft as silk to the touch. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her and about her world. He knew he was a bit infatuated with her already, but he didn't want that to cloud his judgment or influence his decisions. Harry had the distinct feeling that would be a Herculean task.

Harry had never felt so at ease so quickly with another person. Ever. It caused no small amount of consternation, and yet it filled him with wonder. Harry was never the type of person to trust easily. His trust was rarely given, but once earned he'd never been obligated to retract it. His cautious nature would not allow for such easy confidence. He relied heavily on his instincts to guide his decision when logic would not dictate a reasonable conclusion, especially when it came to people. There were always so many variables to consider; after all human nature was never simple or straight forward.

With Ginny his instincts seemed to gravitate towards unconditional trust. He was attracted to her, of that there was absolutely no doubt. However, he refused to believe that his intuition in this particular instance was being ruled by the sudden and inexplicable onslaught of long dormant hormones.

When she'd finally stirred in his embrace, Harry had thought to slowly remove his arms to spare her the embarrassment he knew was sure to follow. However, a boldness he was not aware he possessed just wouldn't allow it. He'd watched as she slowly came awake, rubbing her cheek against his chest unconsciously, taking in a deep breath, a small smile playing along her lips as her arms tightened along his waist.

Harry had felt something he could not describe stir deep inside of him as he'd continued to observe her as she slowly started to awaken. The sun had begun to peek through the trees and he knew their time that morning must soon come to an end, so he'd gently shaken her in his arms to hasten the process of her waking.

She stretched all along his side causing Harry no small sense of discomfort as she unconsciously rubbed against him.

"Mmm, Mum I had the most wonderful dream..."

_Do tell_, Harry had thought, a wide appreciative smile splitting his face.

She'd stretched once more, her eyes fluttering open, reflexively tightening her hold along his waist as if she were hugging her pillow.

Then without warning she'd squeaked, pushed away from Harry forcefully and proceeded to land on her quite attractive little bum.

Harry had laughed but offered her a hand back up onto the conjured sofa. She'd blushed, stammered and stuttered out an apology and then quite suddenly laughed with him.

Some arguing later and much to Harry's dismay she had Side-Along-Apparated them to the alley where they'd been attacked the night before. He hated the fact that they would be returning to the _'scene of the crime',_ as it were, and the effect that might have on Ginny as much as he hated to Side-Along.

It was the only place, Ginny had said, where they could safely Apparate near campus where she could be assured they wouldn't seem to suddenly appear and that she had been before. "There's nothing there that can hurt me now, so there would be no reason for me to be upset, Harry. I know I may seem fragile to you, but I'm stronger than I look," she'd chided him and Harry couldn't help but agree with her.

They'd had tea and scones as they'd done the previous night although their server was the one that usually attended Harry in the mornings. They continued to talk about anything and everything that had to do with the magical world.

Harry asked a myriad of questions that ranged from Hogwarts to magical history and back again, filling the notebook in his mind. Ginny, to her credit, never seemed to tire, answering whatever question popped into his head. Her eyes sparkled as he'd jump from topic to topic, and when he would ask about her family, she'd become even more animated. Harry could almost picture each family member as she impersonated their speech and mannerisms.

They'd parted much later than either of them had anticipated - Ginny to receive her lecture from Bill and Harry to return to the flat near campus that he shared with three other students. She'd given him a mischievous grin and told him to expect an owl from her today, Bill's owl to be exact. That had spurred another question and answer session. Neither one of them it seemed was very keen on parting, and they stretched their time together as much as they dared. Ginny hadn't wanted to tempt the fates on the very real chance that her over-protective older brother would _'call down the wrath of the mighty horde upon her'_, and that would not bode well for either of them.

They would meet today if she could get off with nothing more than a lecture and a slap on the wrist from Bill and if she could pull off getting away without any of her family being the wiser.

She'd asked if he had a window in his room and advised him to leave it open unless he wanted to educate his flat mates on the wonders of magical owl post. Harry had escorted her back to the alley, again walking hand in hand. She'd peeked at him from under her lashes shyly and quite suddenly risen up onto her tip toes brushing her soft lips briefly against Harry's cheek, and before he could react she'd disappeared with a small pop. _Hah! She likes me!_ He'd thought, as he returned to his flat not quite comprehending how he'd made the trip.

He blearily took in his surroundings and realized he'd still not put on his glasses. He felt around on his nightstand until he grasped his glasses, as he groggily recalled taking them off and placing them there for safe keeping the night before. He placed the spectacles on the end of his nose, and pushing them into place with a forefinger, his world coming into focus. He blinked rather owlishly at the bird that blinked its large orange eyes in return. Yes, that was most definitely an owl.

Harry mentally added this to the ever growing list that he was beginning to catalog in his mind. He sub-referenced this bit of information under the heading Magical Creatures: P for Post Owl, and closed the notebook in his mind with a loud snap. Then he suddenly re-opened the notebook, leafing through until he came to the page titled Ginny Weasley, going past the sub-heading titled Parents: Arthur and Molly, proceeding to Brothers: then stopping on Bill and adding the mental text of: Owns eagle owl named Horus. Giving a mental nod he again closed the notebook with a satisfied snap.

When they had parted yesterday morning, Ginny had told Harry to expect Bill's owl with a note letting him know when to expect her.

They were going to meet up today. Harry had teased her about a second date and whether or not he'd finally get personal, hands-on experience on what a snog was, just so he could see her face heat up in that lovely shade of pink he so enjoyed. She'd muttered something under her breath about him being a _'right cheeky bloke_' but chose to ignore his remark, causing Harry to laugh at her antics.

So here he was staring down an eagle owl that presumably arrived to deliver a letter from the witch Harry was very much eager to see again. Harry balefully stared at the haughty owl. "Well, do you have a letter for me or not?"

The owl ruffled its feathers and turned its head away from Harry. If Harry was the type to anthropomorphize animals he'd have sworn that damned owl had just given him a contemptuous look. The owl turned its overly large orange eyes back towards him, and a staring match ensued. If it wasn't for the fact that the letter was from Ginny, Harry was stubborn enough to out-stare the blasted owl.

"I can't believe I'm going to kowtow to a feather duster," he muttered under his breath, then cleared his throat and raised his voice. "Horus, may I please have the letter from Ginny you have so kindly brought to me?"

Horus stared at him with an air of disdain that seemed natural coming from the owl, and then stuck out its leg, which Harry could see did indeed have a letter tied to it.

He reached over and pulled on the red string divesting the owl of the letter and received a nip on his fingers for his trouble. Harry yelped in surprise and was going to reach over and smack the owl on its feathered head as another series of hoots that resembled laughter were heard from the bird, causing Harry to pause, hand still raised in the air. Then the bird did something totally unexpected; it leaned over and rubbed its head affectionately against Harry's raised hand.

Harry opened his mental notebook again going back to the sub-heading labeled Bill and erased his original annotation to add: Owns a **crazy** feather duster named Horus that delivers mail.

Harry looked at the letter he held in his hand. There was no envelope, only a softly textured yet rather thick yellowed parchment. It was folded at the corners to resemble an envelope and there was a rounded wedge of red wax sealing it closed. He turned the letter over to see that it was addressed in a loopy yet bold style that read: _**Harry Potter's Room, Oxford**_

Breaking the seal with his thumbs he unfolded the letter and read.

_**Harry,**_

_**I hope this letter finds you rested and well after your little adventure. I'll meet you at our tea shop at nine this morning. I'll be the one with red hair. I'm looking forward to seeing you again; I hope you are too.**_

_**Yours,**_

_**Ginny**_

_**PS. Since you don't have owl treats, Horus likes to be scratched behind the ears as payment for a job well done. I explained that to him, so he shouldn't be too surly with you. Let him know you don't have a response, and he'll head back to Bill. **_

Harry glanced at his watch and noted that it was a little past eight in the morning, plenty of time for him to shower, dress and walk over to the tea shop. _Our tea shop,_ she'd called it; he rather liked the sound of that. If he were truthful, he was eagerly looking forward to seeing her as well.

"Well Horus, I'd say she likes me. What do you think?" Harry scratched behind the owl's ears as Ginny had suggested and received what he assumed was a contented and affirmative hoot in response to his question.

"Yeah I think so too."

*

Shortly before nine found Harry standing at the entrance to the tea shop. His eyes scanned the crowded room for a head of red hair and immediately zoomed in to her seated at a table in the farthest corner of the room. She smiled at him brightly as she waved him over. Harry could feel the wide smile that split his face as he navigated the crowded shop towards her. When he reached her, he bent at the waist and placed a brief kiss upon her cheek. When he straightened he could see the surprised yet pleased look upon her face as he sat next to her at the intimately small table.

"Good morning, Harry," she greeted him warmly.

A white ceramic tea pot was set on the table with what Harry hoped was already steeping tea. While he'd still prefer a strong coffee, the morning caffeine boost was still very much desired, and he _was_ beginning to acquire a taste for tea. Ginny poured the steaming tea into the mug directly in front of Harry and then her own. He prepared his tea and took in a grateful gulp before he greeted Ginny in turn, sighing contentedly.

"So, how'd the lecture with Bill go?"

"It was awful, he was sitting on Willie's sofa when I got back, and he was livid. I swear he was channeling Mum at one point," she shuddered. "After the very _long _lecture he proceeded to ask me about you. I'm so glad I'm related to Fred and George where I learned the fine art of plausible deniability. The innocent doe-eyed baby sister act goes a long way as well."

"I'll bet it does," he chuckled. "So what's on the agenda for today then? Are we going to some craggy old castle where we'll stand in front of a boiling cauldron containing eye of newt and wing of bat while chanting _'bubble, bubble, toil and trouble'_ with the Weird

Sisters?" Harry joked as he took another swig of tea from his mug.

Ginny's tilted her head a bewildered look upon her pretty face. "Umm, no, I wasn't planning on taking you to Hogwarts today. And as far as I know the Weird Sisters haven't played there since the Yule Ball my third year."

"Huh?" Now it was Harry, he was sure, that had that confused look upon his face. "You know what never mind. I don't think I want to get into the confusing yet I'm sure highly entertaining comedy of errors that will follow that explanation."

She shrugged her shoulders at Harry's statement as they sat comfortably drinking their tea. He noted that there was a plate of fresh plain scones at the center of the table and a pot of what looked like strawberry marmalade. She had liberally spread some of the marmalade on her scone and, breaking off a piece, popped it into her mouth.

"Not as good as Mum's but still very good. Would you like a bite?"

Harry was enthralled as he watched her lick a bit of the marmalade from her upper lip, wondering if he were bold enough to lean over and taste the sweetness of it from her lips. His eyes then focused on the scone that she held out to him and was only a few inches from his own mouth. He leaned over and took a bite thinking that he was sure it would have tasted better had he actually tasted the strawberry from her mouth. He closed his eyes, inwardly groaning.

"Good?" Harry heard her ask and opened his eyes again to see her sweetly smiling face. _Damn but she was pretty_.

He wouldn't have cared if they were actually going to some craggy old castle to chant in front of a disgustingly boiling cauldron that probably smelled like wet socks as long as he got to do it with Ginny.

"Very," he responded, "although I'm sure your _mum's_ is better."

"You've not lived until you've had my mum's cooking. Actually, speaking of my mum's cooking…" Harry watched as she blushed prettily, sure that whatever she was going to ask him next would give him no small amount of amusement.

"Yes, speaking of your mum's cooking…" he prompted.

"Well, umm you see, I well…I sort of told my mum that I would be bringing a boy home for dinner tonight." By the end of her mumbled speech she'd lowered her eyes to the table rather demurely, Harry thought, as her blush increased in intensity.

"I'm hoping you mean me, right?" he couldn't help but tease; it was so much fun after all.

Her eyes snapped up and narrowed on his widely smiling face. "Of course you. Who else would it be?" she huffed irritably.

"Don't be mad, Ginny. If you're going to blush like that, I can't help but tease you. It's your own fault."

She crossed her arms over her chest and mock glared at him as he kept his hang-dog expression in place. It didn't last very long as her lips slowly curled at the corners where he noticed a dimple appear.

"Fine, then. I'll not give you opportunities to tease me then."

"What would be the fun in that?" he winked.

"You, Mr. Potter, are an incorrigible tease," she groused good-naturedly.

"I'm not usually; you just bring it out in me." He really couldn't help teasing her. He rather enjoyed it. "So you want me to meet your parents already? Isn't that a bit soon?"

"Yes, Harry, I was rather hoping you'd propose by the end of the week. I'm not getting any younger after all. I'm practically an old-maid." She rolled her eyes at him as he laughed.

"I'd be happy to meet your family. After all you've told me about them, I'm rather curious."

"Yes, well even though I told Mum not to invite the barbarous horde, it's not very likely she'll listen to me. You'll meet Ron, since he lives at home and Hermione, his girlfriend, since they're practically attached at the hip. Who knows about the other five – are you okay with that?" She'd placed her hand over his on the table; it was warm, slightly calloused and much smaller than his own.

Being raised in an orphanage, Harry had always wondered what it would be like to be adopted and have a mom and dad. After the Dursleys had left him there, he'd stopped wondering about his own parents, thinking it was always best not to dwell on the things he could not change. Instead he'd hoped for the possibilities of things that could be. Meeting Ginny's family would be a new and hopefully pleasant experience for him.

Turning his hand palm up, he entwined their fingers, squeezing gently in reassurance. "Yes, actually, I'm very okay with that." She smiled at him warmly, and he could tell she was very pleased by his response.

"So where are we going then?"

She gave him a sheepish half smile. "Well I know you'll be disappointed, but I was rather hoping you'd give me a tour of the Oxford grounds."

"Oxford?" He asked, watching her nod in response, "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

She nodded again giving him an encouraging smile. He felt a bit deflated by her choice. He was really looking forward to visiting all the wizarding communities she'd told him about.

Seeing his disappointment she assured, "I have several reasons why I don't think it's a good idea to take you to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade or any other wizarding community, at least not today."

"Okay," he responded with little enthusiasm, lowering his eyes to their joined hands so she wouldn't see how dejected he felt.

He knew he was acting like a spoiled child, but he'd so been looking forward to learning more about the world his parents had come from, the world _she_ was from.

Her thumb caressed the back of his hand as the fingers of her other hand trailed along his jaw to end at his chin, gently lifting it until he was looking into her eyes that seemed to plead for his understanding. "I'm sorry, Harry. There are good reasons why I think it's a bad idea." Her hand lifted again to rest her palm against his cheek.

_Damn but she had the most beautiful eyes. _He nodded his head, and he could feel the slightest caress against his cheek at the action. He reveled in the small gesture having only been touched, really touched, so few times in his life. He didn't realize how much he craved simple touch until, well until he'd met Ginny.

He could feel the smile tug at his lips, a small lifting of the corners of his mouth; he felt it grow wider as he warmed to the thought of showing her _his_ world.

"All right then, that's what we'll do. Did you have a particular destination in mind?" He watched as her countenance turned from gentle concern to enthusiasm as his own excitement for the day grew within his chest.

"Not really, I'm not at all familiar with the Muggle world so anything you show me will be new and exciting. My dad would sell one of us to the gypsies to be where I am right now." The utter pleasure she felt in the prospect of their outing was palpable, making him realize that it didn't matter where they were going as long as he was going to spend the day with her.

"What? Holding hands with a devilishly handsome fellow such as myself in a tea shop?" He laughed as she rolled her eyes at his

banter.

"My dad is crazy for all things Muggle, and if he knew I was going to visit a Muggle university he'd have baby kneazles."

_Kneazle_. Harry opened his mental journal and flipped to a page titled _Unknown_ and added the word _kneazle_ to his list. In the short time he'd known her, he'd become accustomed to Ginny peppering her conversation with words he had no reference for whether they were British-isms or Wizard-isms_,_ and if he stopped to ask her each time she added a new word to his growing vocabulary they'd wind up jumping from topic to topic without ever finishing an original thought.

"Well, then take down as many mental notes as possible so you're able to relate your day to him later," he suggested as he sat back to take a final sip of his tea. He gestured to her plate and cup of tea. "If you're done we can head out."

He watched as she took the last piece of her scone and popped it in her mouth with relish. "I am now. Let's go."

He stood from the small table with her, deciding that being anywhere with Ginny would be a good day.

*

The balmy summer breeze was a warm caress as the sun bore down on the pair that lay on the grass in companionable silence.

Harry's head was laying on Ginny's stomach, his eyes closed and a smile curving his lips. The position was quite intimate and more than she would ever have allowed anyone else, but there was a comfortable familiarity with Harry that she'd never felt with anyone before. Her eyes took in the clear crystalline sky with its spattering of nebulous cotton white clouds before becoming completely entranced by the ruffling of his hair in the warm early afternoon breeze, swirling the mop of jet black hair into an attractive windblown mess. At those times, she would give into the temptation and run her fingers through his hair, eliciting a wide smile from him for her own intimate gesture. Her other hand skimmed the grass in a hypnotically soothing back and forth motion as the blades tickled her palm.

They'd toured Oxford all morning and had yet to see half the halls and universities. They'd finally crashed in a grassy patch to catch their second wind.

_God's in his heaven – All is right with the world. _Those words mirrored her current state of being. She was here with Harry and all seemed so right with her world. She remembered reading those lines in her Muggle Studies class when their professor had added classical British Muggle literature to their curriculum. She signed up for Muggle Studies to please her father and didn't really care for it at first but grew to love it as time wore on. She even obtained an Outstanding in her O.W.L.'s, which pleased him to no end, and she planned on getting a N.E.W.T. on the subject as well, which made him beam all the prouder.

Thinking of her father brought her back to the moment. She had invited Harry to supper at the Burrow, a frightening proposition to say the least. It was unlikely that her mum would follow through on Ginny's request that she not invite the horde. She wasn't intimidated by her brothers in the least; quite the contrary, she intimidated them. Now that she could perform magic outside of Hogwarts they all had a healthy respect for her repertoire of jinxes, hexes and curses, though she rarely utilized them against her brothers. Just the threat was enough to keep them in line. That was one of the many things she absolutely loved about magic; it evened out the playing field between witch and wizard.

Her brothers would no doubt do their best to intimidate Harry. Merlin knew their size and sheer volume was sufficient to threaten most blokes. They would test his mettle, and she would allow it to a degree. If she were honest with herself, if any boy she brought home couldn't stand up to her brothers she'd be shot of them pretty quickly. If a little thing like her could make her brothers toe the line, she just couldn't see herself with someone who wouldn't be able to stand up to them. Her brothers were not really a major concern, nor was her oh-so-very domineering mother. It was her dad's opinion that mattered to her the most. If her father found him lacking in any way, she would certainly follow her own counsel on the matter, but she would have a terrible time going against her father's judgment. With perhaps the exception of Albus Dumbledore, Ginny respected her father's opinion above all others, and she'd never disobeyed a direct decree from him and couldn't imagine doing so.

Ginny had never introduced a potential boyfriend to her family. She'd never had a boyfriend, period. She would have thought that keeping her eccentric family away from a boy she was very seriously attracted to would be the wisest course if she wanted the relationship to have even the slimmest wildest chance of working. But it was because she was so seriously attracted to Harry that she felt compelled to introduce him to her family. As much as Ginny complained about their quirkiness and over-protective tendencies, she knew that she was loved unconditionally. She respected their opinions, and if she were honest she desperately wanted their seal of approval. But dear Merlin, how exactly does a girl go about introducing a national hero to her family? This was, after all, _**The**__ Harry _

_Potter, Savior of the Wizarding World, The-Boy-Who-Lived. _She just couldn't go in and say, _'Hey folks, I'd like you to meet Harry Potter. Yeah, __**that**__ Harry Potter'. _

Since having met him, Harry Potter had taken over her every waking thought and not just those thoughts that pertained to the problems that came with _being_ Harry Potter. No, her thoughts revolved around the boy himself and her ever increasing attraction to him. She was trying but not quite succeeding in reining in her fanciful thoughts. She needed to be level headed in her emotional dealings with him. She was falling for him hard and fast, and it scared her.

Outwardly Ginny always used her academic pursuits as her excuse for avoiding any form of romantic entanglements with boys at Hogwarts, and while that was true to some degree, it was hardly the most important; it was just the most convenient. Her experiences in her first year shaped her in ways that still had a knack of springing up on her. At first it was a general distrust of anyone who was not her family or Albus Dumbledore. She gave her trust slowly and sparingly. She especially didn't trust older boys, although the majority of her friends were boys from her year.

When she was being brutally honest with herself, she knew that her greatest fear was losing herself so completely to another person ever again. She had loved Tom desperately; she would have done anything for him _willingly._ That kind of power through the illusion of love frightened her. She held no fear for Voldemort, not in the sense that most did, for they feared his very name, the beast he had become. No, what Ginny feared was the beautiful fallen angel, the boy that had charmed her, lied to her, and made her love him.

It always came back to Tom and the horror of having given her mind, body and soul to a boy who told her pretty lies, told her that he loved her, used her in ways she had buried deep in the recesses of her mind, and laughed at her naiveté.

But Harry was different. She'd never felt such a physical and emotional attraction to anyone, not even Tom. Harry had garnered her trust almost instantly. It scared and thrilled her all at once. And the very fact that Harry was different had her stomach tied up in knots. The burden of responsibility weighed heavily upon her shoulders. She knew that she had to broach the subject about his future plans but quite frankly didn't know how to go about it. The fact that he was here in England at this particular time was not lost on Ginny. Death Eaters were once against wreaking havoc in her world, and if they found out that Harry was alive, he would become an immediate target. The fact that he was an untrained wizard walking about in England only made him that much more of a target.

Her stomach rumbled, and she looked down at Harry who began chuckling. She could feel the vibration of the action against her abdomen, bringing an embarrassed smile to her lips. She looked up to gauge the position of the sun directly above them, trying to determine the time of day.

*

"Hungry are you?" Harry teased, turning his head sideways on her stomach to give her a lopsided grin.

"I'm a Weasley; we're always hungry. Do you have the time?" she queried, unconsciously running her fingers through his hair.

Harry lifted his wrist directly in front of his eyes to block out the sun. He squinted against the sudden glare, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust. "It's a quarter to one. No wonder your stomach is protesting."

Ginny slowly sat up, and Harry could feel her abdominal muscles contracting with the movement, bringing his head from its position on her stomach to her lap. Her own position above him blocked out the sun, and Harry saw her face in shadow. She had her bottom lip between her teeth in the tantalizing way he was beginning to associate with her.

"Harry," her voice held a lilting query in its tone. He assumed she wanted to tell him something but was in doubt as to his reaction and therefore reluctant to bring it up. He smiled inwardly.

"Yes, Ginny?"

She looked away from him for a moment, took a deep breath and then returned her to gaze at him. She opened her mouth as if to say something then seemed to change her mind. "I'm hungry."

That was obviously _not_ what she was going to say, but he chose not to pressure her. She'd tell him what ever was bothering her in her own time. "Yes, I gathered as much."

She gave him a nervous smile. "It's so lovely today; how about we find some place that has take-away and then somewhere we can sit outside to eat?"

"That sounds like a brilliant idea." He stood up and then held his hand out to give her a hand up.

"Thank you. I do have those from time to time." Holding out his hand to her, he pulled her up, and she didn't let go as they started off into the city proper.

"Though I don't know why you'd want to come back here. You didn't seem all that impressed by the grounds or the buildings," he observed, unconsciously bringing Ginny closer to him as they walked.

"Harry, I go to school in a magical castle, nothing much of Muggle architecture impresses me, well other than the fact they were built without the aid of magic. Now _that_ is amazing to me. I mean Oxford is old, but Hogwarts is older." There was amusement in her tone - not quite condescending, but certainly mischievous.

"Being raised in Boston where the oldest architecture is some 200 years old, buildings that have been standing for over a millennium is awe inspiring. And in a way I feel as if it's a part of me, a part of my history. Growing up, I always felt a sense of connection to England, and I knew that someday I'd come back."

Ginny tugged on his hand to bring them to a stop as she looked up at him. "I've always felt that way about Hogwarts. The first time I saw it I felt like I was coming home." She worried her lip, lowering her eyes, then staring back at him openly. "I think you'll feel the same way too when you get your first glimpse at Hogwarts." Shaking her head as if to clear it, she started walking again as he followed.

They found a pub a few blocks off campus that served large roast beef sandwiches and chips. They purchased a couple of soft drinks to wash them down and two large wedges of treacle tart before heading back to a relatively isolated, grassy area with shady trees where they could eat their lunch in relative peace. Ginny made sure they were alone as she pulled out her wand and conjured a blanket for them to sit upon.

They sometimes chatted and sometimes sat in companionable silence as they ate their meal. It was comfortable, as if they'd known each other for ages. There were times, however, when Ginny would look over at him worrying her lip between her teeth in a nervous gesture. He wanted to ask her what was bothering her so much but decided to wait her out. When they finally got to the treacle tart, Harry decided it was his favorite dessert and that if Ginny worried her lip one more time he'd have to say something.

"Harry?" She started hesitantly.

_Finally!_ "Yes, Ginny."

"I wanted to talk to you about your situation…" her voice faltered when Harry sat up and turned to face her, his piercing eyes boring into her own cinnamon colored orbs.

"My situation? What situation would that be exactly?" Harry asked with intense curiosity.

She reached out and took his hand in hers, returning his openly curious gaze

"There are several things I think you need to think about, Harry, umm now that you know you're a wizard that is. I mean, well, I guess just for starters have you thought what you're going to do about your education?"

"What about it? I'm going to be attending the University in a few weeks time, but I'm sure I told you that."

"Well yes, I know that was your original plan, but wouldn't you say that's changed now that you know you're a wizard?"

Harry stared at her as he contemplated her question, weighing the knowledge he possessed but coming up short in his equation for lack of information. "I'm not sure I follow. What does my being a wizard have to do with my plans to study at the University?"

Ginny took a moment to respond. Her thumb was absentmindedly rubbing circles against the back of his hand as she contemplated her options. He heard her mumbling under her breath. Something about going about this all wrong and going round her elbow to get to her arse. He decided to wait her out and let her get her jumbled thoughts in order so that he might better understand where the hell she was going with her line of questioning.

"Let me ask you another question then. Are you planning to live your life as a Muggle or a wizard?"

Harry's brow furrowed at the question. "I hadn't really thought about that. It's a good question, but I'm not sure I have an answer."

Ginny came up to her knees in front of Harry, her gaze intense. "Harry, it's a very important one. You _are_ a wizard; there is no escaping that fact. In order for you to choose between the two worlds you need to know everything there is to know about being a wizard. I assume that the _power_ you do posses is raw, untapped, and maybe even sporadic in your ability to control it."

Harry contemplated her words. Yes, he'd learned to control his _gift_ to a degree but it could be erratic at times and could sometimes be set off by strong emotions or dire circumstances. The question she had asked was very intriguing. Did he wish to continue his life as a _Muggle _or should he embrace his magical birthright? Were the two mutually exclusive? Why couldn't he attend University as he had planned and then learn to become a wizard? He really couldn't make such a monumental choice without knowing what it meant to _be _a wizard, but even the idea of giving up all he had worked so hard to accomplish was unthinkable.

Yet his reason for being in England had brought him to this very crossroads. Had he not worked so hard to achieve the scholarship, had he not chosen to study in Oxford, had he not made the seemingly inconsequential decision to go to the pub that fateful night, he may never have known that he was indeed magical.

Why couldn't he be both? He was raised a _Muggle,_ and had he not met Ginny he might never have known he was a wizard. Who knew what turn fate would have dealt him. He'd have gone on with his life blissfully unaware of the magical world. But he _was _a wizard, and his intrinsic curiosity demanded that he learn all there was to know about _being _a wizard.

"Harry, I think there is something you need to consider. I think that…" She stopped, her brow furrowed in concentration or perhaps consternation. "I think that our meeting is not necessarily an act of coincidence. You, well not just you but _Harry Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived _being here in England at this moment in time when things are just at the boiling point in our world."

"I'm not sure I follow where you're trying to lead me, Ginny. What does any of this have to do with my choosing to continue with my plans for university, or choosing to live as a wizard or Muggle?"

Ginny inched closer to Harry taking his hands and placing them on her lap as she looked at him with such fierce intensity that Harry supposed he could see her very thoughts if he concentrated hard enough.

"My world - _Our world," _she amended, "is on the very brink of war. The Death Eaters I've been telling you about have recently stepped up their attacks on Muggles and any wizarding families that are considered blood traitors." As she spoke she unconsciously gripped his hand with increasing pressure, her eyes unfocused as she began to recount the things that she said were occurring in the magical world.

"You've not been here long enough to notice, but in the Muggle news you'll hear reports of gas mains exploding in residential areas and attacks on the Muggle underground trains by unknown terrorist factions and attacks on families where the cause of death is unknown or unexplained. These are all attacks by Voldemort's followers. There have been rumors coming from Eastern Europe, though not widely known, that Voldemort himself has returned by some dark ritual." As she recounted the events that were taking place her voice became softer, and it became increasingly difficult to follow. She was lost in her own world, a dark world, filled with fear and preparing for war.

"Ginny, I, well while I understand how this can be distressing to you and that it affects you in ways that frankly frighten me, but I, well I don't want you to think me callous, but how does this affect me and my decisions?"

When Harry had begun to speak, she startled, her eyes refocusing on his face searchingly. She took one of her hands and placed it on his cheek, as he unconsciously leaned into her touch. Her hand was warm from holding his, slightly calloused yet soft and gentle, caressing.

"Oh, Harry, I'm not afraid for myself, I'm afraid for you. You _and _my family. We were and are very prominent in our beliefs against the pureblood purists; we're one of those blood traitors I mentioned earlier and staunch followers of Albus Dumbledore. That puts us on a hit list of sorts. But I'm also frightened about what this means to you."

"Again, I'm not sure I follow, Ginny. What does this have to do with me? I'm not British, I'm not a _follower_ of Dumbledore, and I don't know enough about your world and its social issues to have an opinion one way or the other about this conflict, though I'm pretty sure which side I'd choose if I had to make one_. _How does this concern me and why are you afraid for my well being?" It wasn't that he didn't care about what she was saying. It mattered to him greatly if it affected her, but it still didn't seem to have any bearing on the choices he made about going to university. She had yet to make a valid point for her argument.

"Harry, whether you chose it or not, you are a wizard. Whether you consciously chose a side or not, that side was chosen for you when Voldemort killed your parents when you were a baby. You are here in England right now when we are very likely going to enter into a conflict that not only affects our world but will ultimately affect the Muggle world as well. And you're as vulnerable as a babe in the woods because you don't know the first thing about magic and how to defend yourself."

She then took both her hands and placed them on either side of his face staring earnestly into his eyes.

"If by some wild chance the Death Eaters get wind that Harry Potter is back in England, you might as well tattoo a bull's-eye on your arse, because you will become number one on the Death Eaters' most wanted list, and they will not stop until the _Boy-Who-Defeated_ their leader is _dead!"_

"What are the chances of that actually happening though?" Harry decided to play Devil's Advocate to her questions.

"What were the chances of you meeting a witch in a pub in Oxford?" came her sharp response.

"Point," Harry conceded.

"Look Harry, I'm not trying to scare you, nor am I asking you to make a decision right away. I would like you to think about experiencing our world as much as possible before you start class at the university. Go with me to Diagon Alley, and visit Hogsmeade and Hogwarts. See a dragon with my brother Charlie or a Hippogriff with Hagrid" At this last suggestion she smiled.

"Meet with Albus Dumbledore at Hogwarts, talk to other wizards that could give you advice." At this last bit she lowered her eyes, and Harry wondered at the action but decided not to question it for now. He had a lot to go on with as it was.

Harry stood up and walked towards the edge of the green, his back towards her. He chuckled to himself as he realized that this was the second time Ginny had dropped a proverbial bombshell on him. It was a silly thing to focus on, but it was a bit farcical nonetheless. He didn't want to look at her worrying her bottom lip or looking at him with her doe eyes, pleading for understanding. He needed to make a logical and dispassionate decision that was not hormonally induced.

What she was asking wasn't all that outrageous nor would it inconvenience him in any way. Quite the contrary really, she was in essence asking him to spend time with her in her world, getting to know a world he had, only two days ago, had no knowledge of. That prospect was actually quite appealing to him.

No, choosing to spend time with a beautiful girl and learning about the world he was born into was not a difficult decision. What concerned him was the very real possibility of facing the reality of his situation. He'd promised himself long ago never to be ruled by fear of the unknown but to face each situation and challenge as it presented itself. This had the very real potential of becoming his greatest challenge and the most important decision of his life. Oh it was presented in a lovely package in the form of one Ginny Weasley, but that also came with the very real and pressing danger of war looming over his head. It was daunting, and it frightened him. Much like Ginny his concern was not for himself so much as it was for her and the family he had yet to meet but felt he knew from her descriptions of them.

It was an unknown variable that he would have to face eventually. _In for a penny, in for a pound._ Harry heaved a deep sigh and turned to face her. She was indeed worrying her bottom lip, and her eyes while not pleading did hold concern for him in their depth.

"So, I was thinking Hogwarts first."

Ginny gave him a brilliant smile, bounced on the heels of her feet for a moment and then bounded up to him and gave him the warmest hug he'd ever had to date.


	4. Chapter 3 The Cunning Use of Comic Books

**Chapter 3 The Cunning Use of Comic Books**

"_There is no limit to the ingenuity of man if it is properly and vigorously applied…" Winston Churchill, British Prime Minister._

Eyes still shut tight, Harry bent over circling an arm around his stomach and a hand over his mouth in effort to stave off the nausea he always felt after Side-Along. Ginny's hand was drawing soothing circles on his back. He took a long steadying breath and opened his eyes cautiously. He blinked a few times against the brightness of the sun and then blinked again at what he thought could only be described as a basketball court for giants.

An oval perimeter with varying sized stones cordoned off what he guessed was a game court of sorts that was a little over the size of a football field. On either end of the field were three sets of vertical rings that were about forty or so feet high in the air.

"Umm, Ginny? What's that?" Harry pointed to the rings.

She looked up at him beaming, her hand a comforting weight on his back. "That, Harry, is our Quidditch pitch. It's not official sized, but it's good enough for our Weasley pick-up games."

"And how do you play this Quid Itch, on _brooms_?" He laughed at his own attempt at humor.

She rolled her eyes at him, "It's not _Quid Itch,_ Harry. That sounds like a fungus that grows on your privates or something. And as a matter of fact it _is_ played on brooms."

"You're kidding right? I was joking." Harry's eyes widened at the imagery his imagination was conjuring.

"Nope." She hooked her arm through his and proceeded to walk across the grassy pitch.

Harry stumbled along in a daze until they crossed under one of the poled rings. His head tilted up as he stared in awe at the structure that was five or so stories high. They crossed through another copse of trees, and the sight that greeted him had Harry's eyes bugging and his mouth agape in astonishment.

The structure before him could only be held together by magic. It looked like an old English country farmhouse that had six lopsided stories that must have been added willy-nilly as the family within its walls increased in numbers. He laughed to himself at the thought that the Three Little Pigs had a hand in the design of the house and that Mother Goose was the contractor. A huff and a puff and you could blow the house down. A weather-beaten wooden sign jutted out of the ground proclaiming the name of the Weasley homestead as the _Burrow. _

"Welcome to the Burrow, Harry," Ginny exclaimed proudly but just as suddenly began to worry her bottom lip. "Are you sure you want to meet my family?" she asked with apprehension.

Harry took her shoulders in his hands and turned her to face him directly, her brown eyes staring into his with worry. "What are you worried about? Your mother isn't planning on fattening me up then baking me in a meat pie, is she?"

Ginny snorted and then covered her mouth with a hand as she gave a full out laugh. "She's not going to serve you up for supper, but she sure is going to do her damndest to fatten you up."

He'd always had a scrawny, lanky frame and the thought of his head on uncle Vernon's body had Harry laughing at her assertion.

"I sure hope you're hungry. My mum's idea of a growing boy's appetite is three or four helpings. Given the way my brothers eat, that's her only barometer, and they eat like Frank."

"Frank?" Harry asked puzzled.

"Our pot-bellied pig, you know, as in frankfurter," she explained as she took Harry's hand again and proceeded to cross the yard. Harry could only roll his eyes at the moniker

"Mum got him a few years back, and we were going to fatten him up too," she teased as she bumped his hip with her own. "Only we were planning on getting more than a meat pie out of him. We were hoping for plenty of bacon, ham and sausages - yum." Ginny licked her lips, and Harry was enthralled by the action.

"Never make a pet out of your food Harry; it doesn't turn out well," she advised with a sagely nod of her head. Playing along Harry mimicked her movement, causing her to grin at his antics.

"When we first got him he was just so teeny, all pink and cute. He followed us kids around like a puppy dog. When it came time to slaughter him I begged, pleaded and cried for Mum to spare him. I made quite the dramatic fuss."

"She first sent Dad out axe in hand and a hangdog expression on his face. He came back into the house and swore that all he could see was Frank's soulful brown eyes staring up at him in recrimination, looking so much like mine, and he couldn't bring himself to do it.

She sent every one of the boys out there with the same results."

As they strolled across the yard's expanse they scattered the chickens and geese that were pecking at the feed that lay on the ground. A rather decrepit looking and very territorial rooster crowed at their passing from atop the henhouse

"Mum railed at all of us for being so sentimental about our Sunday dinner. She stormed out of the house axe in hand and dragged the squealing Frank by his collar and took him to Dad's shed. A half hour later Mum comes back into the kitchen, eyes swollen and red from crying, walks straight into my father's outstretched arms and blubbers out that we were having chicken and dumplings for dinner."

Harry roared with laughter along with Ginny. He realized that the story was for his benefit as much as hers. It served to put them both at ease about the impending introductions. While he wouldn't admit it to her, he was a bit apprehensive about meeting her family. He wanted to make a good first impression.

Harry jumped in surprise as a two legged potato bolted from one of the hedges that lined the front of the house as it was being chased by two identical redheads.

"That's the last one Gred, don't let him get away," one of the twins wheezed out as he bent over, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

Harry watched as the twin named Gred, which couldn't possibly be his real name, dove for the bipedded potato, grabbing it around one

stubby leg. "Gotcha!"

With surprising agility it turned over on its back and proceeded to kick the twin in the face with the leg that wasn't being held, scrambling away as he was released.

"Buggering hell!" The expletive was muffled by the hand that covered the redhead's nose as blood seeped through his fingers.

"Get 'im Freddie or Mum'll have your bollocks on a platter!" Ginny yelled, holding onto Harry for support as she doubled over in laughter.

As the spud sprinted past on his stumpy little legs, Ginny still laughing stuck out a foot and tripped him allowing her brother to grab him by both legs, turning it upside down. He shook it vigorously as it flayed its arms back and forth. Walking towards the edge of a stoned lined fence the twin spun several circuits and proceeded to fling the squealing Mr. Potato Head over the fence a good fifty or sixty feet like an Olympic hammer thrower, grunt and all.

"Good one Fred, you almost beat Charlie's record with that one," Ginny cheered as her brother turned towards her with a triumphant grin.

Harry could see an orange flag a good ten or so feet further than where the potato was swaying dazedly on his squat legs and Hobbit-like feet.

"Pft! That gnome," he jerked his thumb at the potato in question, "weighed a good half a stone. The only reason Charlie made it that far is because he got the runt of the litter on that throw."

Her brother sauntered over to where Harry and Ginny were standing and quirked a questioning brow at his sister. Ginny ignored the implied question and patted her brother's cheek condescendingly. "You keep telling yourself that Fred."

"Wait, what? That's a garden gnome? But it's naked and ugly! It looks like a spud with legs!" Harry turned to Ginny with an incredulous look.

"What? You were expecting it to wear clothes, a red pointed hat and sport a gray beard?" Ginny teased.

Harry opened his mouth then closed it. Ginny smiled knowingly at his obvious erroneous assumption and then turned to the second twin trying to stem the blood that was still seeping from his nose.

"Oh, George, come here and let me look at that." She took out her wand in one hand and his chin in the other as she turned his face down towards her. While her brother was of the short stocky variety, he still towered over her.

She clucked her tongue reprovingly and then lifted her wand and pointed it at her brother, causing him to cross his eyes. _ Episkey _followed by a quick _Evanesco_ and the nose that had obviously been broken before was once again straight and true and the blood was gone from his face and clothes.

"Porgie, you know better than to just grab them by one leg…" Ginny was interrupted mid rant when Harry was jerked forward by her brother's over enthusiastic greeting.

Harry's hand was grabbed in between two rather large calloused ones as his was pumped for dear life.

"Say my good man, such a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Fredrick Gideon Weasley. And you are?"

"Ha…Ha…Harry," he managed to get out through the vigorous handshake.

The second twin took his other hand and proceeded to give it the same treatment. "Well then Ha…Ha…Harry, I'm George Fabian Weasley, the good looking twin."

"Pft! You're the delusional twin. _I'm_ the handsome twin."

Harry somehow managed to liberate his hands from the twins' grasps shaking them to get blood flow back into his numbed appendages.

"That's Harry Po…"

"So, who's here?" Ginny interrupted Harry loudly, clearing her throat for maximum effect.

As if on cue a yelp could be heard in the direction that Ginny and Harry had come from earlier followed by a loud, "Forge!"

Harry turned to Ginny and mouthed _Forge_ with a questioning arch to his brow.

Leaning in she whispered, "That sounds like Bill just got trapped in one of the twin's magical mines, and _Forge _is what we call them for expediency's sake."

The one Weasley Harry had already met came crashing through the trees at the edge of the yard looking like a crazed, wild-eyed Oompa Loompa. Harry couldn't stop the snort from escaping at the sight of the formerly formidable older brother.

"Turn me back you demon spawn," Bill gritted out, nostrils flaring, a white knuckled grip on the wand at his side.

The Forges were leaning against each other for support as they howled in laughter at the sight of their older brother.

"We take offence to –" one twin choked out between guffaws.

"– such disparaging remarks against our – "

'- progenitors!" finished the original twin, and then the two burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"Sorry, Bill; there isn't a counter charm. It's a timed jinx," Ginny explained, since it appeared that the twins were currently indisposed due to their state of mirth.

Bill turned his glare towards his sister who seemed unfazed by her brother's obvious ire. "You! You helped them with this didn't you?

Don't deny it; you three are as thick as thieves!" he pointed an accusing orange finger at her.

"Me? Surely not. Dad got caught in it last week. Mum was livid, but Dad thought it was a hoot," she explained with an obviously exaggerated look of innocence plastered on her lovely face.

As normally as he could manage, Harry walked over to Bill and stuck out his hand. "Good to see you again, Bill. That color goes really well with your earring there."

"Good one Ha…Ha…Harry," the twin Harry thought was Fred praised. Harry turned towards Ginny to hide his smirk from her brothers. Ginny smiled up at him appreciatively.

"Boys!" a commanding voice boomed from the direction of the house. As one they all turned to see Ginny's mother in all her matriarchal ferocity.

Harry's first thought was that she was the quintessential house mom. She was short and pleasantly plump. He could tell that her pretty face had the bones of a once quite beautiful woman. A worn wand jutted out from the pocket of a floral print apron. Her ginger hair was piled atop her hair with flyaway's here and there. As she caught sight of Harry her annoyed countenance beamed with an openly welcome expression.

"You're in for it now. Brace yourself, Harry," Ginny warned as Molly Weasley came barreling out of the doorway to meet the assembled group.

Her maternal gaze honed in on Harry and never wavered as she wrapped Harry in a bone crushing hug, his breath escaping with a

loud oomph.

Keeping her hands on Harry's arms, she pulled back to give him a full inspection, her face bright and welcoming. "It is such a pleasure to meet you, dear. Our Ginny here has never brought a boyfriend home for us to meet. I mean she has way too many friends that are boys, of course, and Merlin knows boys have been sniffing at her heels for years, but our Ginny's a picky one." She turned to her daughter with a disapproving frown. "Aren't you, dear?"

"Mum," Ginny groaned in embarrassment, blushing to the very roots of her hair.

"A mum can tell when a boy fancies her daughter. Don't think they weren't hoping for you to turn your eye on them," her mother continued to reprimand.

The Forges and Bill snickered at their mum's words diverting her eagle eye from Ginny and Harry towards them.

"Boys! Didn't I tell you to deactivate those magical mines last week?" It was funny to watch two grown men cringe in fear over the tiny yet formidable figure that was Molly Weasley.

"Thought we got 'um all Mum," one of the twins sheepishly mumbled out.

"I need your help bringing out the table from the kitchen, or I'd make you go out there and find the lot." Turning her stare towards her eldest son she ordered, "Bill, be a love and bring out the chairs, and while you're at it, can you fix a few of the legs? Some of them are a bit wobbly, and you may need to conjure a few." As she tossed out orders like a well seasoned drill sergeant her brood jumped to do her bidding.

On her last command a couple came strolling into the yard hand in hand. A tall lanky redhead along with a much shorter girl with wild curls surrounding her pretty face walked toward the still gathered group.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you dear. The Ministry's keeping you busy; I've not seen you in a Pixie's age." Molly embraced the girl warmly.

Turning her maternal glare to the lanky redhead, she immediately flayed him with her sharp tongue, "Ronald Bilius Weasley! I am your mum not your house-elf." At Hermione's intake of breath, Molly turned kind eyes towards the girl. "I'm sorry Hermione, dear. It's just an expression." Then, in an about face, she turned her glare back towards her youngest son. "You know better than to leave this house without making your bed and picking up your dirty clothes from the floor. For the love of Merlin you're a wizard not a Muggle, all it takes is one spell."

Hermione turned her own glare towards her furiously blushing boyfriend but refrained from adding commentary, though her look had a _'we'll talk about this later'_ quality to it, then turned towards Ginny in greeting.

"Ginny, how are you? I've hardly seen you at all this summer." Ginny was enveloped in a warm embrace that she returned in kind.

"I know, I'm sorry, but what with helping the twins set up their shop and produce products, summer homework and the lot, " she explained lowering her voice, but loud enough for her mum to hear, "and Mum's unrelenting chores…"

"Ginevra Molly, you're not too old to feel my wand on your bum young lady," Ginny's mother huffed, making her daughter laugh in turn.

Feeling Ron's heated stare, Harry turned to note that a frown and glare were pasted on his face. Deciding to take the upper hand, he stuck out his hand. "Hello, Ron right?"

Ron looked down at the offered hand, and then looked at Harry's friendly expression. He maintained a stoic demeanor until a hard elbow to the ribs from his girlfriend prompted Ron to shake his outstretched hand albeit grudgingly.

"Yeah, Ron, and this," he turned his now smiling face towards his girlfriend," is my smarter half, Hermione Granger."

Harry, pivoting, offered his hand in greeting. "It's nice to finally meet you. Ginny's told me so much about you."

"Oh, she has, has she?" Hermione arched a knowing brow towards the redhead in question.

"You learn to ignore those knowing smiles of hers. It's a perpetual state of being for Hermione," Ginny joked walking towards her friend and bumping her hip to lessen the sting and acknowledge that her words were just teasing.

"Well, that's what happens when one dates a Weasley," she teased back.

"Ouch, Hermione, that hurt." Ginny clutched her hand dramatically to her chest as Hermione smirked at her.

"Hallo, Weasleys." An elder, balding, lanky, bespectacled older version of Ron came striding into the Weasley yard a cheery, welcoming expression on his face. He strode directly to his wife and unabashedly kissed her in greeting, causing the Weasley matriarch to giggle like a school girl. Turning towards the two non-Weasleys, he amended, "and guests."

"Hello, son, you must be the Harry our Ginny told us would be joining us for dinner this evening."

"Yes, sir, it's good to meet you," Harry shook his sixth hand of the day.

"Just Arthur, son. We don't stand much on formality here. Do we, Molly?" Arthur winked at his wife.

Molly Weasley giggled, blushing prettily, which to Harry's estimation seemed such an incongruent expression on the formidable matriarch.

"Arthur, Ron, bring the plates and pitchers out to the yard and help Bill and the twins finish setting up the tables. Girls come help me bring out the food," Molly commanded, giggly-school-girl replaced by a no-nonsense drill sergeant.

"Come on, son. Let's go help the boys set up the table." Arthur placed a companionable arm across Harry's shoulder and guided him towards the battling chairs and tables. Male laughter could be heard across the yard under the shady tree that was lit by what seemed like hundreds of paper lanterns against the twilit sky.

Harry stood just outside the periphery of the swaying lights, taking in the familial camaraderie between Arthur and his sons, the laughter they shared in the simple task. The irony of his position was not lost on him, as he stood on the threshold of this idyllic family scene. This is what he'd always wanted, this sense of belonging that these men more than likely took for granted, and for the first time in a very long while he felt the tug of longing for a family. He wanted to have this one day, a family of his own. He wondered back to

Ginny's questions from earlier in the day; did he belong in this world? Would his children?

He shook his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts that were currently running through his mind. _You're getting ahead of yourself, Potter._ Tomorrow's questions were best left to the future. He still needed to iron out his present. Hearing Arthur call his name he shook his head once more and stepped into the illumination cast by the lanterns and towards the laughing Weasley men.

_*_

_Brick walls._ If Harry had to describe the vision of all the male redheads that sat across the dinner table staring at him balefully, it would be _brick walls_. They were all, well, _big_. Either taller than him in a lanky, muscular way, or relatively the same height yet broader of build. They were an intimidating bunch to say the least, yet Harry didn't find the situation at all threatening. He was rather amused by it actually.

Molly Weasley greeted him like some long lost son and Arthur Weasley kept asking him questions about everyday Muggle devices like plugs and batteries and the purpose of a rubber duck. So being stared down by four brothers that looked as if they'd overdosed on steroids with Molly and Arthur Weasley as parents just didn't have the effect they seemed to be going for, which was straight out intimidation.

Even more amusing were the verbal acrobatics being performed by Ginny whenever the question of Harry's parentage or last name came into the conversation. Who knew the redhead was so creative?

But there was laughter, joking and ribbing all around too, and Harry felt welcomed among the tight knit family even with the occasional intimidating glower he would receive from time to time. It was as if they were struggling to maintain their bullying demeanor, though

Harry was pretty certain he'd receive the _'talk'_ before the night was over.

The twins were the most comical in their antics; they would mock glare at him one moment and make silly faces the next. He identified with them as they included him in their banter, and while they acted like baboons, they were, by Ginny's own description, _conjointly evil geniuses and idiot savants._ Harry had a strong feeling that the Forges were trying to slip something into his drink as they passed him yet another glass of pumpkin juice that Ginny immediately plucked from his grasp.

"You don't want to drink that," she said and then proceeded to dump the contents unto the grass. She then filled another glass with the wizarding drink and placed it on the table in front of him. When he'd first been offered the strange drink, he'd thought that it would be the most horrid thing imaginable. Surprisingly enough it tasted like a citrusy fruit drink with a hint of pumpkin spice.

"Ginny tells me you're from America," Harry turned his attention once more to the Weasley patriarch. He was keenly interested in Harry, more than likely stemming from a fatherly concern, and Harry was happy to assuage his curiosity.

"Yes, from Boston to be exact," he answered between bites of roast and potatoes. He loved the Yorkshire pudding, which confused Harry when it was first offered because it wasn't a dessert at all - it was cup-shaped bread. He cut up another piece of it and dipped it in the beef gravy, savoring Molly Weasley's cooking.

"In what part of America is that located?" Arthur asked cutting into his own beef and taking a healthy bite.

"The northeast, in Massachusetts," Harry responded after swallowing a bit of potato.

"Is that near Salem? They've a rather large wizarding community there as well as a wizarding school. Did you attend Salem Academy?"

Harry was surprised by the question, he had no idea there was a school let alone a wizarding community so close to him. It was amazing that he'd spent practically his entire life there without ever coming across a single magical person, only to cross the Atlantic to meet up with a witch in a pub only a few days after arriving.

"Salem is not far from Boston, about 30 or so miles - that is approximately 50 odd kilometers," he took a sip of pumpkin juice before answering the second half of Arthur's question. "I wasn't aware there was a school or wizarding community there, though," he chuckled at the irony. "Considering Salem's history with witch burning, that shouldn't surprise me."

"I remember learning about that in our Muggle studies class, which is funny really; you'd think we'd learn that particular bit of information in History of Magic, but if it didn't involve another Goblin rebellion then Professor Binns just couldn't be bothered," Arthur chuckled as he too took a sip from his glass.

Harry mmhmm'd around another bite of roast.

"I wasn't aware there was another wizarding school in that area. Which school did you attend if not Salem Academy?" Arthur's curiosity about Harry had yet to run its course. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Ginny had turned towards her father.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, "I di…" but closed it as Ginny interjected.

"Dad wasn't there a witch, Gwendolyn something or other, who let herself get caught just so they could burn her at the stake? She was from Salem, right?" Ginny asked breathlessly. Harry narrowed his eyes at her. That was the third time she'd interrupted a response to one of her father's questions.

"Wendelin the Weird," Arthur corrected his eyes twinkling with excitement. "Interestingly enough her many times great granddaughter, Prudence the Prude, was from Salem. She was burned at the stake as well, twice. She kept giggling while the flames licked at her heel; she simply jumped down from the pyre and walked off. Silly Muggles ran after her, and set her on fire again with the same results, only the second time she turned their Magistrate into a goat," Arthur chuckled. "They left her alone after that."

Ginny laughed along with her brothers, while Hermione sucked in a breath in indignation, "That's an outright violation of the Statute of Secrecy. Wouldn't she have been arrested by the Colonial Ministry of Magic? It's an outrage that she'd be allowed to attack a Muggle without legal repercussion. Hermione then glared at Ginny and the twins, whose laughter died abruptly at her icy stare.

"The Statute of Secrecy as you know it wasn't established here in Britain until 1692, primarily due to the goings on in Salem. However, the then Colonial Ministry didn't establish similar laws until the 1780's. With the Muggle war and their own dark lord to contend with, Muggle protection wasn't very high on their list of priorities." Arthur's face had gone from jovial to grim as he related his bit of history.

Hermione simply harrumphed and stabbed at her roast in irritation. One of the twins brought up the subject of plugs and off Arthur went as he warmed to the conversation. Ginny was right about her mother; she'd managed to place a second helping of everything on his plate while Arthur grilled him about Muggle technology.

"Harry, so you're saying that an electic plug is a conduit for electicity for things like discus players and tellyfisions." Arthur, Harry soon learned, was an extremely inquisitive man with an enthusiastic interest in all things that had to do with the Muggle world.

Harry did his best not to grin at Arthur's pronunciations, but could not help a small quirk of his lips. "Well sir, the correct wording is electric plug, disc player and television, and yes electric plugs are conduits for electricity. They connect to a central power source that then operates things like televisions and lamps. Although disc players are battery operated."

"Remarkable. The things that Muggles create in order to live without magic is astonishing."

Arthur then began to relate what he _thought _heknew about microwaves, and Harry almost interrupted to point out that Arthur had it all wrong, but Hermione managed to catch his eye and shook her head meaningfully.

When Molly asked Ginny to bring out another pitcher of pumpkin juice from the Burrow's kitchen, Harry watched as she reluctantly left to fetch it. Hermione scooted over to Ginny's vacated seat while Arthur was distracted by Ron's grousing about his father's plug collection.

"The first time I visited the Burrow I was corralled into a two hour conversation on the workings of a toaster." She lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially, making Harry lean in as well to catch her whispered words. "Mr. Weasley is the dearest man, and he's absolutely mad about all things non-magical, but he often gets his facts all jumbled, and trying to un-jumble them can be very frustrating."

"Yes, it is rather odd to explain the workings of items we consider to be mundane, nor would I be able to give an accurate description of how a toaster works other than it uses coils to produce infrared radiation to toast the surface of bread." Hermione blinked at him owlishly as he laughed at her expression. "Third grade science project. It was a bit more detailed than that, but I can't be bothered to remember it all."

"I overheard your conversation with Arthur, and I hope you don't mind my asking," she paused as she waited for him to nod for her to proceed with her questions. "Can you tell me a bit about the curriculum at Salem Academy? Does the Academy send out letters when you turn eleven as well?"

It was Harry's turn to blink owlishly at her rapid fire questions, he was about to her assumption but was interrupted by Ginny's return.

"Hermione, did you know that Harry earned a full scholarship to Oxford?" Ginny had placed her hand on Hermione's shoulder making the girl startle and scoot back over to her chair as Ginny once again expertly diverted the questions that would give any significant details to Harry's life. "Didn't you tell me that it was one of the most prestigious Muggle universities?"

That was enough to have Hermione fire off another set of questions not related to Harry's scholarship, academic achievements and Oxford. If Ginny was so intent on keeping personal questions to a minimum she must not have told her family that he was that Boy-Who-Lived character. Sneaky little witch.

Harry reached out and brought the glass of pumpkin juice to his lips taking a mouthful when Ginny's shout made him jump in his seat.

"Harry, don't –" Too late. He'd swallowed the mouthful in an uncomfortable gulp, and with a pop, where a messy haired man once sat now was perched a six foot bespectacled yellow canary.

"Boys, how could you? And to a guest!" Molly Weasley screeched, sending well aimed Stinging Hexes at the pranking duo.

"Mum, I thought you patted them down before they sat at the table. I told you not to invite the horde," Ginny's tone was serious, but her

poorly stifled snort and the laughter in her eyes gave away her amusement at the prank.

"Merlin knows I've done my best to instill some sense of propriety into you two –" a snort at the end of the table cut Molly off mid-rant.

"Arthur, honestly, don't encourage them," she scolded.

"I'm sorry Molly, my dear." Arthur's chuckles turned into full out laughter which only served to set off a chain reaction around the table.

"It's just," he began trying to catch his breath. "I've never seen a canary with glasses before."

At that all eyes turned toward said six foot canary setting them all off into another fit of laugher. Harry squawked and hooted repeatedly, his canary shoulders were shaking in what seemed like laughter and with another loud pop and a puff of smoke he proceeded to cough, spitting out a yellow feather. "Honestly," Harry scolded, dusting a few stray feathers off his shoulders before meeting the eyes of the twins across from him, "is that any way to treat Harry Potter?"

All commotion ceased as those assembled froze in opened-mouthed astonishment. Turning towards Ginny, he asked, "I thought you said I was a national hero?" Harry couldn't help but add to Ginny's discomfiture. She'd been trying to avoid the inevitable all evening, and he thought a bit of humor interjected into the situation would help to ease the evident shock that his declaration had caused.

"Bugger!" Ginny cursed.

"Ginny, language!" Hermione scolded.

All eyes turned to Ginny and then Harry and then back again until finally settling on him. Harry squirmed in his chair at the attention he was receiving. He had initially been amused by their reaction to his pronouncement, but he became unnerved by the intensity of their scrutiny.

"Oh bugger," Ginny repeated unrepentantly and waved her hand resignedly at Harry's forehead. "Go ahead, Harry. Show them."

Not wholly comfortable with the request he nonetheless lifted the fringe from his forehead.

"Bugger me! You're –"

"Language!" admonished Molly and Hermione in unison.

"Harry Potter!" completed Forge number two.

Molly Weasley turned to her husband who was seated at the far end of the table. "Arthur, could it be, I mean he –"

"Yes, now that I'm aware to look for it he is the spitting image of James Potter - well except for the eyes; those are Lily Potter's eyes."

Though it was a small reference Harry was moved by the thought that his parents carried on in him. Harry watched as Arthur Weasley turned to his youngest child. Gone was the jovial demeanor to be replaced by the stern visage of a father requiring an accounting from his child.

"Ginny, you've some explaining to do."

"Yeah, I guess we do. Mum maybe we should clear the dishes and bring out a spot of tea and the pudding. This might take a while." Without waiting for an answer she brandished her wand and then proceeded to banish the dishes and cutlery as her mum followed her

into the Burrow's kitchen.

"I'll help." Hermione jumped from her chair eagerly and proceeded to follow in the direction Molly and Ginny had taken.

"A Galleon says she just went in there to get the lowdown on our _national hero_ here," Ron speculated. There was a hint of disapproval

in his tone, though Harry didn't think it was directed at Hermione's actions.

"That's a sucker bet Ronnikins," one of the twins, Fred possibly, commented.

An uncomfortable silence followed and tension hung heavily in the air. Although he wouldn't call the stares he was receiving wary or hostile, they were certainly openly questioning. Harry could not fault their curiosity; he was claiming to be someone this world had long thought dead.

Blessedly the sound of female voices had the men sitting at the table turning to face the women as each took up their places in turn.

Ginny walked back to her empty seat just as Harry stood up and moved her chair out for her. She smiled at him gratefully, and as she sat down he took her hand in his for support.

The jovial atmosphere of only a few moments prior was no longer present as they all waited expectantly for the explanations to begin. Harry was peripherally aware of the noises that surrounded him: the creaking of chairs as their occupants fidgeted in them nervously, the whispered words, the clearing of throats.

"Ginny," her father prompted.

"Sorry, Dad, not sure where to start. Maybe it would be better if you asked us what you wanted to know."

"Well for starters _we,_" one of the twins waved their hands between each other, "would like to know how you managed to bag Harry Potter."

"George," his mother reprimanded.

"I'm Fred. Honestly, woman, you gave birth to us. One would think you'd be able to tell us apart after all these years," the reprimanded twin responded.

"Oh, bother, you're identical for the love of Merlin and the sake of Morgana, how you expect –"

"Just kidding Mum, I am George," he winked at his mum and laughed along with his identical sibling.

"Boys, while we usually appreciate your sense of humor, now is not the time." Harry watched as the droll duo straightened up in their chairs, all too serious out of place expressions on their faces at their fathers reprimand.

Arthur turned towards Harry and Ginny. "Perhaps you should begin by telling us how you happened upon each other," her father prompted.

Ginny, who had been looking at her father openly, immediately dropped her eyes to the scuffed table and fidgeted in her chair. "Yeah, well, I was hoping to skip over that particular story."

"They met in a Muggle pub in Oxford," Bill inserted flatly and with obvious disapproval.

Arthur Weasley turned sharp eyes towards his eldest. "And how exactly is it that you are aware of the circumstances of their meeting,

Bill?"

"Well I, that is Ginny –"

"Harry and I got into a spot of trouble with a Muggle mugger." She turned to Harry in nervous amusement. "That sounds funny doesn't it, Muggle mugger? Can you imagine the headlines if the _Daily Prophet_ got a hold of that bit of news: _Muggle Mugger Makes Mischief for Missing Magical Magnate! _The possibilities for alliteration are –"

"Ginny," Harry gently reprimanded and then turned to Arthur to explain before she dug a hole she'd have a hard time getting out of.

"Ginny was in Oxford at a pub with her friends Willie and Winnie; that's their names right?" He turned to Ginny for confirmation, and at the nod of her head he continued. "I was out with my roommates, uh I mean flat-mates from Uni –"

"I meant to ask you earlier, I've taken my A-levels, and I've been debating between Cambridge and Oxford. What do you –"

"Hermione, focus please. We need to keep on task," Ron interrupted his girlfriend, placing his arm around her shoulder. She blushed furiously.

"Yes of course, sorry. Continue."

"Yes, well my flat-mates convinced me to go with them to the pub." He turned to face Ginny who was softly smiling up at him.

Someone cleared their throat and Harry broke eye contact with Ginny and resumed his story. "It was difficult to carry on a conversation in the crowded pub, so I convinced Ginny to accompany me to a tea shop where we could talk." Harry remembered how he'd stared at her from across the room for a good half hour before he'd gathered the courage to introduce himself. She looked so out of place there, as if she didn't belong, and she was so damn pretty. He felt drawn to her like the proverbial moth to the flame, though he wasn't going to express that to a table full of male Weasleys.

"We talked for a while, just getting to know each other, and on our way back from the tea shop a mugger pulled Ginny into an alley and started threatening her and demanding my wallet. I've never been so frightened in my life; he didn't seem as if he was in control, as if he wasn't quite right in the head and one wrong move from either of us could be the breaking point for him." Harry recalled those desperate moments vividly, every last detail from the putrid smell of garbage to the sweat dripping down his spine and the look of abject fear and determination warring for dominance on Ginny's face.

"I threw the wallet down as he'd asked, and Ginny tried to reach for what I now know was her wand. The mugger panicked and threatened her with his gun. I threw up my hands and blasted him across the alley –"

"Wait, what? You can perform wandless magic?" Hermione interjected. "But that's impossible, well not impossible, but it's so rare –"

"Yes, I know, so Ginny keeps telling me. Though I didn't know it was magic I was performing," Harry replied sardonically.

"What do you mean you didn't know you were performing magic?" Ron asked with a hint of belligerence in his tone. Harry stared at him for a moment wondering at the not so veiled hostility that seemed to emanate from the youngest male Weasley.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Harry's tone matched Ron's. "I'd no idea until that evening that my accidental and sometimes not so accidental bouts of magic were actually that, _magic._ I never knew until Ginny told me that I was in fact a wizard."

"But how is that possible, and where have you been for the past thirteen years, other than across the pond of course?" Bill asked the question that seemed to be on everyone's mind.

Harry's grin was self deprecating. "I was in fact living at St. Jerome's Catholic Orphanage in Boston, Mass since the day my relatives left me on their doorstep when I was five years old, or at least I think that's how old I was." That revelation, Harry noted, seemed to make the table come alive with curiosity as an onslaught of questions were thrown at him all at once.

A loud piercing whistle cut across the melee, and Harry jerked his head in time to see Ginny lower her fingers from her mouth. "No, he didn't die in that car crash with his relatives as was widely reported, obviously because he wasn't in England at the time. He didn't know he was a wizard because his relatives never told him. He didn't get a letter from Hogwarts. We don't know why. Even though he was in Boston he would still be down in the _Hogwarts' Book of Names,_" Ginny looked at Harry at this point, reminding him of the conversation they'd had the night they'd met. "As far as we could determine, distance should not have been an issue in regards to his receiving his acceptance letter –"

"Distance shouldn't have been a deterrent, not with such a powerful magical object," Hermione interrupted. "It's in _Hogwarts: A History_,"she continued brightly to the groans of her boyfriend and several other Weasley siblings it seemed. "Well, it is," she stated petulantly.

"Thanks, Hermione." Ginny smiled at her friend then turned back to her family. "Anything I missed in there?"

"Yes, thank you, Ginny, but don't think your mum and I won't be discussing your little foray to a pub in Oxford either, but that will be better served for another time." Ginny's father looked at his daughter sternly over the rim of his glasses.

Ginny blushed and nodded her head lowering her eyes to hide what Harry knew to be acute embarrassment at being reprimanded in front of him.

"Harry, were you aware that your relatives had died in a car crash?" Arthur's tone was respectful and compassionate.

"No, sir - well not until Ginny told me about it. Frankly, I thought it was ironic that they would die in the manner they told me my parents had. They took delight in telling me my father was drunk behind the wheel."

"James and Lily Potter, die in a car crash! Not bloody likely!" Molly Weasley shrieked in outrage.

"Mum!" The twins reprimanded with a mischievous gleam in their eye. "Language!"

"Sorry, dears, but it's outrageous that such a thing could even be contemplated. And to say that they were drunk is shameless. How could they say something so blatantly false?" Harry felt a sense of comfort from the Weasley matriarch's reaction to what Harry now felt to be a terrible slight on his parents' memory.

"Well they weren't very nice people, Mrs. Weasley," Harry soothed.

"Minerva told me when the news of the car crash began to circulate in the _Prophet_ that she knew they were the worst sort of Muggles. I see now that she was not exaggerating," she huffed. Her tone and facial expressions then changed from outraged to maternal in the matter of an instant as she added, "And please call me Molly."

Harry couldn't help but smile at her. He could see out of the corner of his eye that Ginny was beaming at her mother in approval. Well he at least had the support of the Weasley women on his side. He caught the smiling visage of Hermione as well and thought he had the approval of a possible future Weasley woman as well. Now if only he could do the same with the Weasley men.

"Harry?" Arthur's voice interposed into Harry's musing. He turned curious eyes toward the Weasley patriarch.

"Yes sir?"

"If you don't mind my asking, when did your magic begin to manifest itself? Do you remember how old you were?"

"As far back as I can remember really. When I lived with my relatives, I would make things _happen._ I didn't know that I was doing it, but my family always punished me for it. I never associated, until I was much older and at the orphanage, that it actually was me making glass break and windows rattle. It would often be set off by my emotions: fear, anger, anxiety." He felt Ginny squeeze his hand and glanced at her. He'd been so engrossed in the conversation that he'd forgotten that their hands were still entwined.

"But how did you learn to control it?" Arthur interjected. "As Hermione mentioned wandless magic is a very rare ability."

"I didn't at first. It wasn't until I had one too many _accidents_ at the orphanage that I started to even attempt to control it. Since the only correlation between these accidents was my emotions, I decided to try to control them." He fidgeted in his seat for a moment. When he first started speaking he'd been looking directly at Arthur Weasley, but, as he began to recall those first bouts of accidents and the fear that it would generate, he looked towards the dark shadow of the trees. He hated that more than anything; he couldn't stand the thought that something he did would make others feel the way his uncle had made him feel.

"I was about eleven or twelve, I think, when I started to try and clear my thoughts at the end of the day. I would go over anything bad that happened to me throughout my day and try to release my anger and negative thoughts, a meditation of sorts. It helped me minimize the incidents, but a causal result of the meditation that I wasn't expecting was a tingly feeling that would course through my skin and end at the tips of my fingers…"

"It was your magical core," Hermione interjected. "It was looking for release. At least that's my hypothesis." She shrugged sheepishly as all eyes turned towards her.

Harry nodded at her in acknowledgement. "I didn't know what it was; I only knew that I had this overwhelming urge to let it loose. It was beyond irritating, like an itch I couldn't scratch. So during my, for lack of a better word, meditation exercises, I started to focus on releasing that energy through my fingertips."

Harry closed his eyes and placed both hands on his thighs, palm up. He took deep, even breaths as if to recreate the incident all those years ago.

"During one of those sessions I wasn't focusing properly, and I let my mind wander. I was thinking about something that had happened earlier that day, an incident with another kid from the orphanage where my glasses broke. I wouldn't be able to get a replacement for a few more days, and I was practically blind without them, so I was sulking about it. I sat there meditating though in actuality I was really brooding and the thrumming in my hand became exponentially intense. I opened my eyes, and there in my hands were my glasses – in perfect condition no less."

Harry opened his eyes blinking and squinting at the blurry faces around him. He closed his left hand around his glasses and smiled.

"Just like that," he said, taking the familiar spectacles and placing them yet again on his face.

"So what did you think you'd just done if not magic?" The curiosity on Arthur Weasley's face was keen.

Harry laughed, "I had no idea, I thought I was some sort of superhero or something like one of the mutants in X-Men."

"Umm Mutants, X-Men?" One of the twins interjected

"Comic book characters," Harry clarified.

"Oh you mean like 'Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle'? Except he didn't have umm, _super powers_. He was just a bit, well, mad."

"You've comic books? That's cool, I'd love to see them." Harry turned towards Ron who seemed to have temporarily forgotten his previous animosity towards Harry as he warmed to the subject of his favorite comic.

"Oh, we've loads, but I only have the Martin Miggs comics. I've got them stored in my room. They're collector's items and –"

"Ron, focus please. We need to keep on task," his girlfriend mimicked his earlier words with a smirk on her face.

"Yeah, right, umm sorry. Continue," Ron said with the look of an overgrown chastised puppy.

"Harry?" Ginny's soft voice had him looking towards her openly curious face. "So what did you do after that? I mean how did you start to learn to do magic wandlessly?"

"Well, as I've mentioned, I had no clue it was magic. I thought it was some latent superhero powers. I did notice that the thrumming that had been coursing through my body constantly seemed to tone down a bit. It didn't go away altogether, but it was much more bearable than before."

"So what _did _you do?" This question came from Bill who was no longer sporting his Oompla Loompa look.

"Like I said, I turned to my comic books." Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yup, I'd be embarrassed too if I were you. That's like me turning to Martin Miggs for tips on how to be a Muggle." Ron chortled and then yelped as his girlfriend cuffed him on the side of the head.

"Oi, Hermione that hurt!" Ron whined.

"Good, it was mean to," she replied unrepentantly. "So what did you glean from your comic book research, and did that help you in any

way?"

"Well I was mostly a Marvel comics fan, X-Men, Spider-Man, and the like, and even though I gravitated to the bespectacled geek kid bitten by a radioactive spider, I really didn't think I had the ability to shoot spider webs from my wrist or climb brick walls, so the mutant powers seemed more up my alley – "

"Harry, can you keep the additional information to a minimum for the time being; we're a bit overwhelmed here," Ginny interrupted.

"Umm yeah, yeah I can, sorry." He gave her an embarrassed grin. It wasn't like him to ramble on. "Anyway I picked the comic book heroes that were appealing to me."

"I'm sure," Hermione asserted. "What was the first ability you tried from your comic book heroes?"

"Flying," was Harry bald reply.

"How'd that work for ya'?" one of the twins questioned with a laugh from across the table.

"It was a spectacular, unequivocal failure," he admitted.

"What did you _do,_ Harry?" Ginny's question was both amused and reprimanding. Something Harry found quite amusing, she looked like a mother-hen who was both proud and irritated at its chick for attempting to fly out of the chicken coop.

"I jumped off of the roof of the church rectory. Unsurprisingly, I didn't fly, but I did bounce. So I determined flying was not one of my mutant abilities." He could laugh at it now, but at the time he was devastatingly disappointed. He really did want to be able to fly. He'd not totally given up on that ability either.

Ginny placed her hand on his knee. It felt warm through the cloth of his pants; the air had gotten cooler since the sun had set. It was a comforting weight, familiar almost. It continued to amaze him how comfortable he felt with her.

"What super power _did_ you get wizard-man?"

"Well, George, since I couldn't fly, the next best thing was teleportation."

"How'd you know I was George?" he asked with a petulant frown on his face.

Harry smirked. "Elementary, you admitted it to your mother –"

"Forget that, what the bloody hell is teleportation?" Fred exclaimed.

"It's a lot like your Apparation only without the squeezing your guts through a straw and scrambling them back together feeling," Harry explained.

"You can Apparate? Why didn't you tell me?" Ginny's tone managed to sound both hurt and accusatory.

Harry was a bit taken aback by her reaction, "Well, it's not really Apparation is it? I have some limitations," he placated.

"What limitations exactly?" Ginny eyes were openly curious, and at that moment she reminded him of her father's intensely keen interest in his magical naissance.

"Well I can't Teleport somewhere I've never been to before or don't have knowledge of, or at least I don't think I can. Given my situation at the orphanage, I couldn't really test my limits too much. So I've really no idea what my limitations as regards to distance are. In the middle of the night I would go from place to place within the orphanage like the dining hall or our recess area, places like that." He noticed Ginny biting her lip in that way that she did when she wanted to ask him something but was embarrassed to.

"What? Go ahead and ask. The worst I can say is no," Harry prompted.

"Would you mind showing us?" He could barely hear her whispered inquiry.

With a mischievous grin Harry shimmered noiselessly out of existence.

"Where'd he go?" Fred exclaimed.

Everyone at the table scrambled around in their seats searching out Harry's whereabouts within the limits of the light given off by the paper lanterns that were swaying in the trees above their heads.

Harry watched on amusedly from his perch on the tree branch above the table until he heard Ginny call out his name anxiously. "I'm up here," and as soon as her eyes sought him out he shimmered back into existence at his seat at the table.

He gingerly placed his hand on her forearm, feeling his heart clench in his chest at the look of worry in her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you," and without caring that they had an audience, he took her in his arms as she hugged him back fiercely.

"I didn't mean to panic. I was being silly," she assured him.

He pulled back to look at her, searching her face to make sure that her words matched her countenance. "I'm sorry." He brought up his hand to cup her cheek. Her eyes were looking intensely into his own as he gently brushed the hair away from her face in what he hoped was a soothing motion.

"That was wicked!" George exclaimed from across the table, effectively interrupting the moment. "You didn't even make a sound, and you just shimmered, and then you were gone. Do you know how bloody useful that is?"

Harry scanned the table and noticed the vary looks of speculation and curiosity. "It did come in handy whenever I was in the mood for a midnight snack from the kitchens." Harry grinned at the memory unrepentantly.

"What else can you do, Harry?" That the eagerly intoned question came from Hermione was of little surprise to Harry by now. She was an intensely curious person, as curious as he was when faced with a new imponderable.

He shrugged. "Well, I can move things around." He demonstrated by making the salt shaker that was on the far end of the table fly towards him, slapping against the palm of his hand. "I can make them disappear." With a wiggle of his fingers the salt shaker vanished.

"I can make them reappear." The salt shaker materialized nestled in the palm of his hand. Grinning wickedly he decided to show off a bit by levitating the salt shaker a few inches and then spinning like a top slowly at first then gaining speed as it became a blur, coming to an abrupt halt as he dropped it back into the palm of his hand. With another wiggle of his fingers, he banished it back to the far end of the table. Bowing his head in appreciation when he received enthusiastic cheers and applause from Ginny and the twins.

"Well, from what you've seen in the time you've spent with Ginny, what can't you do?" Bill interjected.

"I've never tried to alter the composition of an object - I think Ginny called it Transfiguration." He looked at Ginny for confirmation, and at her nod continued. "I've never tried to conjure something out of thin air either, that's wicked cool!"

"It would seem that your ability is only limited to the things you think are possible, Harry." Ginny spoke softly from beside him, a proud beaming smile on her pretty face. "It's amazing that you were able to accomplish any of that without any formal training. It's not much different than what we can do with a wand, but that you can do it wandlessly is, well as Hermione put it, practically impossible."

There were general nods and words of agreement from those seated at the table, and, though he hoped he didn't show it so clearly on his face, he was basking in the praise of those around him.

"Now that you know you're actually a wizard, Harry, what do you plan to do?" Molly Weasley asked from the head of the table.

"That's a good question, Harry. While you've a fair few tricks there, formal training would not be amiss. You are, after all, as you so succinctly put it, a national hero. It wouldn't do for The-Boy-Who-Lived to be untrained, not to mention hazardous, especially if you're going to be living in England." Arthur looked upon Harry with concern on his kindly face.

"Your daughter said the same thing, sir. She's convinced me that I should at least go to Hogwarts and meet with the headmaster. To be honest, I'm not too keen on altering my life at this juncture. I worked really hard to get a scholarship into a good university and the chance to study abroad. I had my life planned out; however, the idea has merit, and from what Ginny tells me there is a magical terrorist group out for my blood." Harry wanted to be as forthright and honest as he could be with the Weasley patriarch. He wasn't totally convinced of the need for formal training, but he was willing to meet with the headmaster to placate Ginny's fears.

"She's right, you know. Just being here at this moment in time is precarious for you. Did Ginny tell you about your parents and how they died? "

"Yes, yes she did. She told me all about that night and the man that killed them and that there are rumors that he's back from the dead or some such fantastical tale," Harry confirmed.

"You shouldn't be flippant about this, Harry. Every moment you're in Britain could be a death sentence for you," Arthur Weasley gently reprimanded.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't mean to make light of the situation. You must admit that it's a bit much to get on with, knowing that you're being stalked by some homicidal megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur. I know it's a serious matter, and, as your daughter put it, if I don't at least learn to defend myself I '_might as well tattoo a bull's-eye onto my arse'_."

Arthur turned a reprimanding eye towards his daughter. "I've no doubt she used those exact words."

"Sorry Daddy, but it finally got the point across. He's a bit stubborn." Ginny shrugged her shoulders.

"That's the tea pot calling the cauldron black," the twins chorused.

Ginny's wand appeared in her hand, and she fingered it lightly as she gave the twins a pointed stare.

"Point taken, Half-Pint," Fred laughed nervously, and Harry chuckled at the notion that these two grown men were intimidated by their diminutive younger sister. He imagined she was quite formable with her wand if she could cow them so easily.

"Well, Harry, no time like the present. Perhaps it would be wise to at least make the introductions this evening to our most esteemed headmaster. You can then make a formal appointment to meet with him at Hogwarts. The earlier the better, I'm thinking," Arthur advised.

Harry turned to Ginny silently seeking her counsel. If he were honest with himself he rather dreaded the introduction. Once that threshold was crossed he feared there was no turning back, and truth to tell he wasn't emotionally or mentally prepared to make that step. However, looking into Ginny's earnest, open and concerned stare was sufficient motivation.

"No time like the present, sir." Harry repeated.

"Wise choice, Harry. I'll just make s Floo call shall I," and with that the Weasley patriarch strode towards the Burrow's kitchen as all eyes watched his departure.

"Harry?" Bill called, bringing Harry's attention back to the occupants seated around the well-worn Weasley table.

"They're right, you know, Ginny and Dad. You're a wizard, Harry, and by the looks of it a very powerful one. It's in your best interest to learn as much as you can. You're going to be learning from some of the best and brightest witches and wizards that Britain has to offer. You'd be a fool to pass that up. If Dumbledore decides to take up a part of that training himself, well you're one lucky bloke."

Bill's voice and countenance was open and forthright, and Harry appreciated the advice from Ginny's older brother. He'd never had an older brother figure he could turn to for advice.

"Thanks, Bill."

"We think we should take you under our wing, make you an honorary Weasley -"

"Or you will be someday if Ginny has any say," the twins snickered. They yelped in unison as Ginny fired a spell at them under the table.

"That's your first warning; the next one will be flapping bogeys," Ginny warned, her tone menacing even to Harry's ears.

Harry's attention was diverted as he noted that Arthur Weasley was striding back toward the table. As he came closer he advised,

"He'll be here momentarily."

"Bugger," Harry cursed lowly, not completely prepared or looking forward to his meeting with the Hogwarts headmaster.

"Harry dear, language," Molly gently rebuked.

"Oh, umm sorry Mrs., umm I mean sorry Molly." Harry shrugged then sheepishly smiled at her. "It's a habit I picked up from your daughter."

Ginny swatted his arm with the back of her hand at the exaggeration and spluttered indignantly when her mum responded with, "Of that I have no doubt."

The table erupted in laughter, and Harry couldn't help but join in even if it was at Ginny's expense.

The assembly suddenly became quiet and all eyes turned towards the Burrow as an imposing figure seemingly glided through the yard in long flowing robes. Harry was mesmerized by the presence of the man who looked like something out of Tolkien's imagination. Harry took in every detail of his presence, the long snowy white hair and beard, the silver embroidered constellations that seemed in constant motion across the fabric of his robes, and the square glasses perched at the end of his nose. Each detail painted the picture of what Harry would classically define as the quintessential wizard. So this was Albus Dumbledore.

The aged wizard came to a stop directly across the table from Harry, taking a seat at the chair that had been conjured by Bill Weasley. He linked his fingers together placing them on the scarred table, his eyes twinkling merrily on his grandfatherly face.

"Harry Potter, I presume."

AN:

I'm aware that the twin's middle names are not canon. I've read several fanfics that utilized their uncle's names as middle names, I can't give credit since I've no recollection which author utilized it first, but it just seems so fitting that Molly would honor her twin brothers by naming her twin sons after them.


	5. Chapter 4 The Opposite of Static

**Chapter 4 The Opposite of Static**

"_For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else." Ralph Waldo Emerson __American__Poet__, __Lecturer__ and __Essayist__, __1803__-__1882_

The whirring crystal orbs and clinking metallic spheres buzzed incessantly in an erratic tattoo that competed against the wheezing, whistling snores of the portraits that hung on the walls, even the Sorting Hat's slumbering murmurs added to the low cacophony of sounds. The current headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, was oblivious to the resonance as he sat behind his ornate mahogany desk. The sounds reverberating off the circular stone walls gave a repetitious susurration that could have been mistaken for the whispered conversations of the shades of past headmasters and mistresses.

Albus Dumbledore was lost in his memories, lost in the chaos of choice and consequence and _the sum of all its parts._ He lived in a world of lies, half truths and misdirection. He refused the outward political trappings that were offered to him for the challenge and delight of heading the preeminent school of wizardry in all of Europe, and yet the burden of responsibility lay heavily on his shoulders. His many choices had left countless lives affected, altered, destroyed.

His life, his choices, had all been dictated by his desire to achieve the greater good. To sacrifice one for the better of all – it haunted him. But no choice haunted him more than the one he'd made that Halloween night all those years ago. He had given no thought to the life the boy would lead or the treatment he would receive.

Harry Potter – Prophecy's child.

He'd thought of him often throughout the years, but never so much as this summer, as the Death Eaters increased their attacks against Muggles and Muggleborns and the rumors of Voldemort's return came to him with each passing day, although none of the accounts that came to him were conclusive or substantiated until his Potions Master revealed that the Dark Mark that was magically carved on his forearm had fully materialized. He knew then that his worst fears had come to fruition. Voldemort had returned.

The fact that Severus Snape, a member of Voldemort's inner circle, had yet to be summoned was troubling enough in its own right, but it also meant that they were currently blind to Voldemort's activities and plans. Snape knew better, though, than to seek out the Dark Lord without an official summons. All they had to operate on were their own suspicions. Voldemort must have been informed of Harry Potter's demise by his Death Eaters, of that Albus had no doubt. The words of the prophecy would playback in his mind in an endless loop, mocking him – _and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. _These words, while seemingly unrelated, gave him a modicum of hope.

Dead or alive? Few within his own inner circle knew that Harry's body was never found. According to Mrs. Figg's accounting, the Dursleys and Harry left early one summer morning, and in a week's time they were killed in a car crash. Harry was nowhere to be found. The _child of the prophecy,_ the only one that could bring about the demise of the darkest wizard of their time, was either dead or lost to them.

His attention was drawn to the fire that roared to life in his grate as the voice of Arthur Weasley came through.

"Albus, are you there?"

Albus rose crossing the room to stand before the mantle. "Good evening Arthur. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine evening?"

"May I come through for a moment to speak with you; it's rather urgent." Arthur Weasley's voice was tinged with concern, and his usually calm demeanor was distinctly absent.

"I've nothing pressing at the moment; you're welcome to come through," he responded, pitching his voice in a manner that would sooth Arthur, one he'd had much practice utilizing over the years.

Without further comment the fire flared, and Arthur Weasley strode through the grate.

Walking towards a glass encased cabinet, Albus pulled out a bottle and two goblets. "Goblin wine, Arthur? I usually have a glass at this time."

"Yes, a bit of liquid courage might be prudent." Arthur settled on one of the chairs across from the headmaster's desk. Settling in his own chair, he looked over his half-moon glasses at his guest. Arthur seemed to be contemplating the best way to approach his conversation, and after a few moments longer Albus prompted, "What can I do for you this evening?" That seemed to be sufficient impetus to loosen Arthur Weasley's tongue.

"My daughter Ginny invited a young man to dinner this evening to meet the family," Arthur began and took another sip of the Goblin wine.

He waited patiently for Arthur to continue as they drank their wine in companionable silence, and after a while he prompted again, "I would imagine this is not a common occurrence for Ginny?"

"Not at all. To be honest I was quite anxious to meet the young man that had captured our Ginny's attention. She, well after her first year she was never quite the same, not as trusting," he admitted staring out the window to the grounds lost in thought for a moment, and then his blue eyes snapped back to the present and looked directly at him. "While her bringing a young man for us to meet was surprising, the young man she brought with her was, to say the least, even more so."

Albus quirked an eyebrow curiously, "How so?" e He

"Well for starters up until a few days ago he had no inkling that he was a wizard, until he met Ginny that is. He was born in England, but raised in a Muggle orphanage in Boston. But that's not the most surprising aspect of this amazing young man." Arthur chuckled appreciatively in remembrance.

Albus contemplated the wizard before him with a critical eye. He'd known Arthur Weasley since he was a bright-eyed first year at Hogwarts, served with him in the Order in the first war, educated his children and ate at his table. Arthur Weasley was a methodical man, calm, keenly intelligent. This man had seen much; that he would be impressed by a young man he'd just met was quite significant. He waited patiently for Arthur to bring to light why he'd felt compelled to relate whatever he was building up to.

"Albus, he taught himself wandless magic, with the cunning use of Muggle comic books." This time Arthur outright laughed with glee.

Albus felt his eyes widen in surprise. "He taught himself how to use magic?"

"Yes, only he had no idea it was magic, no idea that wizards and witches even existed. He's keenly intelligent Albus, extremely curious, yet cautious. I've convinced him to confer with you; he should be formally taught the theory and practice of magic. The things this young man has accomplished are quite frankly astounding."

Albus smiled widely, eyes crinkling behind his half moon glasses at Arthur's enthusiasm and admiration of this paragon of wizardry and was just as interested to deliberate with him as Arthur seemed to be. "And what is the name of this wizarding savant?"

He chuckled rather nervously and then announced the name in breathless, whispered awe, "Harry Potter."

His eyes widened even further as his eyebrows raised in astonishment. The irony that he was contemplating the fate of Harry Potter prior to Arthur's arrival was not lost on Albus.

He sat forward in his seat, his gaze intent on Arthur's countenance, "You're confident that he is in fact Harry Potter?"

Arthur's response could not have been any more animated as he gave a bark of a laugh, "No doubt in my mind. He's Harry Potter all right, the spitting image of James with Lily's eyes."

"You say he's been in Boston all this time?"

"Yes, his relatives quite shockingly left him on the doorstep of an orphanage, and he's been there ever since. He wasn't in the car that killed them." The disgust for Harry's relatives was quite plainly visible on Arthur's face.

Albus nodded and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes he heaved a deep sigh, "I never let it be known that his body was never found, the fourth member in the car was actually a Muggle friend of their son. Had it not been for the ignorance and disdain that our society in general holds against Muggles there might have been a more thorough inquiry. As it is, it took all of my formidable influence to curb the outbreak of Muggle attacks due to the manner of his death."

"His body was never found?" Arthur asked incredulously, "Why wasn't that disclosed? I don't understand."

Arthur's blue eyes gazed into his own searchingly. He did not make the mistake of thinking, as so many others did, that Arthur Weasley was a simple man of limited intellect and intuition. Albus returned his gaze unflinchingly, though inwardly he could feel the sting of disapproval in Arthur's eyes.

"I know that many in the Order questioned my decision to leave him with his Muggle family. Make no mistake, as Minerva was always keen to repeat, they were _the worst kind of Muggles_, but he had the blood protection of his mother there as long as he stayed with his aunt. He would be spared the scrutiny of the wizarding world. He would be safe."

"Safe perhaps, but neglected and unloved, if their leaving him in a Muggle orphanage to rot is any proof of their character," Arthur replied indignantly. Just as quickly the righteous indignation faded from his countenance as he seemed to give a self-recriminating mirthless laugh.

"But I cannot place the blame fully on your shoulders, Albus. We were all so caught up in the euphoria of a world without He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that we, quite unforgivably, forgot about the boy who brought about his downfall. We never questioned your decision, not really." Arthur gave a deep sigh, his eyes flicking towards the now completely darkened sky outside the headmaster's window. Turning them towards the headmasters once more, he sighed deeply before continuing. "Even though the Order had disbanded, our responsibility at that point should have been towards Harry, but we were all too busy living our happy lives to even think of him, at least not until the reports of his death."

"No Arthur, the blame of Harry's fate lies solely upon my shoulders_. _It is my burden alone, and I alone must carry it. There is a fine balance between doing what is right for the good of all against the cost of a single soul." Albus could feel the prickling of tears behind his eyes as the memories of past mistakes he always struggled to keep at bay flooded his mind. Fawkes trilled mournfully upon his perch, and yet the sound heartened him.

"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown," Arthur quoted sympathetically.

"Indeed."

A few silent moments passed before Arthur nodded his head decisively. "He is willing to speak with you. I know I do not need to stress to you how vulnerable he is, but he has an open mind to whatever advice you have to impart in regards to his future. Do not mistake his ignorance of our world for naiveté, Albus; you only have one chance with Harry. You've always told us that our choices determine our circumstances, our very character; tread carefully, Albus."

No, Arthur Weasley was not a slow witted man. He inclined his head in understanding. "Shall we meet this shining example of wizardry?"

Arthur's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. "We shall." Arthur placed his now empty goblet upon the headmaster's ornate desk, inclined his head in farewell, walked towards the grate and, throwing Floo powder into the roaring flames, intoned his destination.

* * *

It felt as if they had been talking for hours. They had pretty much exhausted the topic of Harry's history, how he'd met Ginny, how he taught himself magic, or what he now knew was magic. He'd found the headmaster to be genuinely curious about Harry and engaging in his demeanor. Yet there was something off about him that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. Logic and reason could not always be counted on when it came to judging a person's intentions, and when logic failed he relied on his instincts, which had always served him well. Albus Dumbledore, however, had him stumped. There was a twinkle in his eye that presented a good-natured, unassuming quality to his persona. Yet, behind the twinkle there was intelligence and calculation.

"Harry? Arthur tells me you're interested in attaining a formal education of magic at Hogwarts?"

Harry focused back onto the conversation that was going on around him and the headmaster's question, "Interested yes, though not totally convinced it's necessary." Harry responded.

"Harry," Ginny admonished.

Harry turned to Ginny a wry grin on his face, "We agreed that I would speak with your headmaster and that I would go to Hogwarts. I'm going to give it my full consideration; it's not an outright no, Ginny, just a _wait and see."_

"Stubborn git," he heard her mutter under her breath. Harry just smiled at her engagingly until she heaved a deep sigh and returned his smile.

"May I ask where your reluctance lies in taking on this endeavor? I assure you that what you will be learning will go beyond your wildest dreams and expectations of what it means to be a wizard."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his half moon glasses, his demeanor was beneficent and his tone grandfatherly, it practically screamed, _trust me, I'm a good wizard._ Harry wasn't completely fooled by his affectation; he was a sly old coot and Harry would need to be on his toes around him.

"Well Sir, I set the path of my life quite a long time ago. I've known what I wanted to do since I was ten and that was return to England any way I could." Harry explained.

"You're here in England now." Dumbledore pointed out. "How does that hinder your decision?"

"Yes, I'm here in England. I'm here with a purpose. To obtain my Bachelor of Fine Arts; I've worked damned hard to earn a scholarship to Oxford, and I'm not going to just give it up without a good reason." Harry's voice had risen slightly in passionate defense of his position.

Dumbledore looked at Harry over his spectacles, his gaze piercing as if he was trying to read his very mind.

"That is quite understandable." Dumbledore nodded, a faraway look in his eye. "When I was your age I too had set a path for myself, one that I had felt quite passionate about as well. Fate it would seem had other ideas for my life's journey." The twinkle in his eye had dimmed and his face had taken on a pained expression.

Harry took in every detail of the headmaster's countenance: the sadness in his eyes, the tension around his mouth, his clasped hands upon the scarred wooden table. He was such an imposing figure. The power seemed to radiate off his very skin and spark around him as if it could not be contained.

"We do not always live the lives we thought we would or take the paths we thought we'd take. Some dreams are stolen from our very hands, others broken irreparably. I do not ask you to leave the path you've set for yourself or give up on your dreams, only that your dreams are deferred for a time. I believe that your magical training at this point in time is quite imperative given the current atmosphere in our world"

"My fear headmaster is that I will immerse myself so completely in this world that I will lose my way and never return. My dreams, my life as I saw it will be lost to me forever." Harry's reply was just as impassioned as the first.

"What have you seen of our world Harry," Arthur interrupted from the head of the table.

Harry took a moment to respond taken aback by the abrupt change of topic. "Nothing. Ginny had planned to take me to some of the wizarding worlds more prominent landmarks today but thought it would be prudent to save that for another time." He turned to her and gave her an understanding smile, squeezing her hand that was still clasped in his. "She was concerned about my safety and what would happen if I were recognized," he explained.

"I never actually told you that," Ginny hissed under her breath so that only Harry could hear her.

"What can I say; I'm a perceptive guy," Harry answered in kind.

"Our Ginny isn't Head Girl for nothin'," George bellowed from across the table, bringing Harry's attention across the table to where the twins were sitting.

"Yeah, we're still upset about that one, taken her out of our wills we have," Fred intoned, a look of abject disappointment on his face as he wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye.

Dumbledore chuckled at their antics and looked towards Ginny affectionately. "Miss Weasley most assuredly earned her position, of that there is no doubt."

Ginny blushed prettily, "I wanted him to visit Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. I even thought about taking him to Beaumont Park for a flying lesson." At the last statement she'd turned to Fred and George who returned her mischievous grin. Harry could hear her father chuckle at the end of the table. "I didn't think it was wise to go on our own and it would probably be prudent for him to be glamoured, just in case."

"A good choice indeed," Dumbledore agreed.

"Personally," Ginny looked at Harry with a teasing smile, "I think Hogwarts will be the clincher. Who'd be able to say no to that?" She bumped her shoulder against his playfully. Harry chuckled at her conclusion, putting his arm around her and squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

"Perhaps Diagon Alley would not be a good first choice," Dumbledore agreed, "given Harry's current situation. While we would eventually need to visit Gringotts Bank in order to settle Harry's estate…"

"Wait, estate? What estate?" Harry was confused by the headmaster's declaration. He didn't have an estate.

"Ah yes, you would not be privy to that information. Your parents left you a trust vault for your education; when you turned seventeen the contents of which have been transferred to the Potter vault. Your godfather is the executor of course – "

"Godfather! I've a godfather?" If the announcement of an estate wasn't shocking enough the knowledge that he had family was even more unsettling.

"Oh Merlin Harry, I am so sorry, I totally forgot about that!" Ginny had placed her hand on his forearm, her expression totally dejected at having forgotten to mention that he had family. "After all we've talked about it totally slipped my mind that you had family."

"Ginny, it's all right; I understand how you could have forgotten." He could tell that she wasn't quite mollified.

"I _am _sorry Harry," she said once again, the look of sadness etched firmly on her face. Harry placed his palm against her cheek and gave her a reassuring smile. He looked deeply into her eyes as if he could find the answers to his questions there.

A godfather. He really couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he had someone he could call family. He could barely define the emotions that were currently running the gamut between pleasure and anger. If he did indeed have a godfather, why had he been consigned to the hell that was living with the Dursleys?

He would set aside his questions for another time. He didn't want to give flight to those thoughts; they were too upsetting, and there would be time for that later.

He looked at the headmaster who seemed to be awaiting some sort of response from him. "So, I've an estate and a godfather?" Harry asked tentatively, unsure and unsettled about this new disclosure.

The headmaster nodded his head in assent. "Perhaps it would be prudent for us to plan a meeting with your godfather?" Dumbledore questioned. His tone seemed eager and insistent to Harry's ears.

"I will be happy to contact your godfather and arrange a meeting. Am I mistaken in presuming that you would prefer this reunion to take place sooner rather than later?" The twinkle in his eyes made a reappearance. "Once I contact your godfather I'm afraid it will take all my formidable persuasion and magical ability to convince him not to track you down."

Actually he would _not_ like to meet his godfather just yet. Harry felt as if things were being thrust upon him that he was not quite ready to deal with yet. "You would presume incorrectly, Headmaster," He could sense the tension that followed his pronouncement and felt Ginny squeeze his hand under the table.

He looked at Ginny's upturned face and met her confused yet sympathetic gaze. She squeezed his hand again in reassurance and nodded her head in acceptance. He felt a stirring in his chest. He had her support, and for this he was immensely grateful.

He looked at the faces of all those assembled and the varying degrees of expression on their kindly faces - understanding, approval, astonishment and even humor from the twins mingled with a twinge of awe.

"If you don't mind my asking, Harry, is there a reason you do not wish to meet with your godfather at this time?" The headmasters question was not censorious, so much as curious.

While he felt that he did not owe the headmaster an explanation for his reluctance, common courtesy required that he respond. "One reason would be that I've college obligations and functions that I must attend before term starts which requires my attention, that in and of itself is sufficient reason. However, the more pressing motive is that I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. This is all a bit much to go on," Harry explained. Frankly, the stresses of crossing the Atlantic, meeting new people and the experiences he'd had so far prior to discovering his heritage was more than sufficient stress. He needn't add more to it in one fell swoop if it could be avoided. He wanted to put off any further emotional entanglements and surprises until he could properly process what he'd learned so far.

He could feel Dumbledore's intense gaze boring into him. "I don't see what harm there would be in at least meeting with your godfather. Once he knows of your existence he would be very desirous to meet with you."

Once more Harry's gaze scanned the faces of the assembled Weasley's and guests. Again he saw no censure in their return stare. Whether intentional or not he did not like that the headmaster had used his godfather as emotional coercion.

"Look, I know what you want me to do; I can virtually feel your hand prints on my back." Harry's tone took on a hint of steel. "But I need to do this on my own terms and at my own speed. I need to be true to myself and not what someone else thinks is right for me." Harry heaved a great sigh feeling the events of the past few days wash over him, his irritation at the headmaster dispelling with each deep breath.

"I will meet with him, perhaps in a few days, when I've been able to absorb all I've seen and heard. Maybe learn a little about my godfather before I meet him. Perhaps visit Hogwarts first, go to this Beaumont Park Ginny seems so keen on showing me." Harry offered in conciliation.

"Either way, I'll let Ginny know when it's good for me. I will have her contact you. You've my permission to tell him about me if you like, but I don't want to be pressured into meeting him."

Once again he felt the headmaster's intense stare, as Harry matched it with his own.

"Very well, Harry. I will be at your disposal, whenever you are so inclined," Dumbledore agreed with a resigned sigh. "I will ask that you do not tarry overly long. I wish to remind you that every moment that you are in England and untrained you put your life and the lives of those with you in grave danger." The headmaster cautioned solemnly.

Harry frowned, his eyes flicking briefly towards Ginny upon this pronouncement. Whatever would befall him would most likely affect her as well since it was very probable that she would be with him when he traveled within the wizarding communities. He was not at all pleased with what, yet again, appeared to be the headmaster's attempt at emotional extortion whether intentional or not.

"Understood, I will have Ginny contact you in a few days time," Harry answered rather brusquely.

Dumbledore rose from his seat. "I thank you for the tea and pudding Molly; it was exceptional as is your hospitality. I wish you all good night. Arthur, would you accompany me to the Floo?"

Arthur Weasley followed in the headmaster's wake towards the Burrow's kitchen door. Once they had cleared the threshold, Harry heard a long whistle from across the table.

"You've a pair of brass bollocks there Harry; I've never seen anyone stare down Albus Dumbledore like that," Fred exclaimed in awe.

"Bloody hell," Ron exclaimed, and before he could be reprimanded by his mum and girlfriend he interjected, "Sorry, but Merlin's saggy pants, even You-Know-Who is afraid of him."

"Not afraid," Ginny interrupted, her voice grave and flat in its intonation. Her eyes were trained upon the shadows beyond the yard as all eyes turned to her.

"He has a healthy respect for Dumbledore's power. But make no mistake, Tom holds him in great contempt; he thinks that Dumbledore is a sentimental old fool and that the world would be better off without his social equality ideology."

Harry could feel the tension her words had evoked. He wondered once more how Ginny knew so much about the man that was so feared that his name was inviolable. Yet she did not fear his name, she'd called him Voldemort, the Dark Lord, and even the familiar name of Tom. He questioned what role this Tom had played in her life, since it appeared that she had a knowledge of him that was not common among the others.

"Ginny dear, are you…"

Molly began only to be interrupted by her daughter who gave her mother what Harry assumed was her attempt at a reassuring smile.

"I'm fine, Mum. No need to go into momma lion mode," Ginny teased her mother.

It didn't dissipate the somber mood in the least; it would appear that the jovial atmosphere of the evening would not be returning. Wanting to deflect attention from Ginny's pronouncement and feeling that it was time to bring the evening to its conclusion, he made his own pronouncement.

"Mrs. Wea - I mean Molly - thank you so much for having me for dinner this evening, but I should be getting back. I really do have a university function I need to attend tomorrow."

Harry stood and held his hand out to Ginny, who smiled at him gratefully. Molly stood up from her chair at the end of the table and walked over to them, her arms outstretched. She gave Harry a warm hug. "You will come again for a visit before your classes start, won't you dear?"

Molly pulled away from the hug to give him a searching look. Harry was pleased that his choosing their world against going to the university wasn't a foregone conclusion to her. It spoke volumes of her respect for his choices.

He gave her a genuine smile as he felt some of the tension leave his body. "I'd like that very much."

"Good, you're always welcome," she told him sincerely.

"Will you give Arthur my thanks for having me over for dinner?"

"Of course, dear," Molly asserted with a warm smile.

Harry turned to note that the Weasley men were walking towards them, Bill reaching him first with an outstretched hand. "It was good to see you again under better circumstances, Harry. As Mum said, don't be a stranger. If you need anything at all have Ginny contact me," Bill offered just as earnestly as his mother.

Harry could only nod in acknowledgement.

"Yes, old bean, don't be a stranger," Fred shook his hand as vigorously as he did earlier that evening.

"How else are we going to become acquainted with our future brother-in-law?" George in turn shook his hand just as vigorously and then yelped, grabbing his backside with both hands. "Yeow!"

"Oi! I didn't say it!" Fred whined as a similar hex was thrown his way.

Ginny grinned evilly at the appearance of the monkey tails that sprouted from each twin's backside. "Share and share alike, isn't that what you always say, Freddie?"

The twins looked at their mother, identical looks of outrage on their faces. "Don't look to me for sympathy. You act like cheeky monkeys; you deserve to look like ones."

As if expecting that response the twins shrugged their shoulders and began to swing their tails enthusiastically.

Next to give their goodbyes were Hermione and Ron. "We should plan to do something, the four of us, you, Ginny, Ron and myself."

"That would be nice. The Teddy Hall Music Society has concerts on the grounds of St. Edmund Hall every Sunday afternoon, though I'm not sure what they're playing this weekend." Harry turned to the redhead at his side, "What do you think Ginny, would you like to go with me?"

"I'd like that." Ginny smiled at him warmly.

"Oi, not this weekend, the Cannons are playing. Remember I got those surplus tickets from my department?" Ron piped in, a sour look on his face at his plans being changed. "They're playing the Harpies," he said as if that was all that was needed to cement his plans.

"Oh Merlin Ron, I completely forgot," biting her lip she looked at her brother with her eyes pleading. "Do you think you could get another ticket? I'm sure if we glamoured Harry he could attend without anyone being the wiser. I mean Bill, the Forges, and Dad are going too, aren't they?"

Ron frowned in thought. "Maybe, yeah, I think I can wrangle one more ticket." Ron's face lit up as he punched Harry's arm, "You're gonna love Quidditch, mate. It's the best sport in the world. It should be a good game, too. It's the Cannon's opening game, and this is their year. They had a great draft this year, hired a new Keeper and a new Seeker, their last one was shite and –"

There was a collective grown from his siblings as well as his girlfriend. "What? It's true! Just you wait, this year they'll make the playoffs!" Ron defended passionately.

"Ron, you've been saying that since you were five and Dad took you to your first Cannon's match," Ginny commented, a look of utter indulgence on her face.

"And every year before and since they've managed to finish –" George began, pausing dramatically.

"Last!" Everyone chorused, laughing uproariously at Ron's glowering visage.

Harry laughed along with them, noting the obvious affection in their teasing. Ron began to launch into a monologue about his favorite team's chances for the playoffs as he felt Ginny tug at his hand, pulling him away from the lanterns' glow and towards the edge of the wards that would allow them to Apparate back to Oxford. Holding her cool hand in his he gave one last look over his shoulder as everyone walked away from Ron and his diatribe blissfully unaware of their departure.

* * *

Sirius Augustus Black paced the floor of his drawing room like a caged animal. After the unexpected and at first unwelcome visit from his former headmaster and mentor he could barely keep his emotions under control. He hadn't eaten and barely slept. He'd haunted every single room of his family home. The first few hours after he had received the news he'd poured himself a generous amount of Ogden's Finest to share with his inner demons. His emotions were in such turmoil, he wasn't quite sure how he felt. His feelings ran the scale of disbelief, anger, hope, fear.

Fear and hope were waging a war for supremacy, and fear it seemed was gaining ground. Above all, he knew that he would honor Harry's wishes regardless of what they were.

He paced towards the fireplace that took up the whole expanse of the west wall, his hands gripping the mantle and a growl emitting deep within his chest.

Spinning away from the fireplace he resumed his pacing but then stopped mid-stride, his head dropping to his chest in an attempt to contain the tears that were struggling to be released.

Raising his head he looked out of the bay windows and onto the London streets. The obsidian sky was gradually turning gray as the sun was beginning to rise above the tree line across the park. The dawning of a new day, and here he stood witness to the unrelenting, unforgiving proof that time waited for no man.

He resumed his pacing once again, grinding his teeth in frustration as he ceaselessly clenched and unclenched his fists.

A loud crack stopped him mid-pace as he turned, wand at the ready pointing steadily at the intruder.

"You need to stop brooding. What will be will be," Remus chastised, completely unaffected by the wand pointed at him with such steady precision. "Have you slept at all?" He came fully into the room and sat on the burgundy chesterfield, stretching his legs in front of him comfortably, his hands interlaced and resting on his stomach.

"I hate when you do that," Sirius grouched.

"If you hated it so much you'd rescind my access through your wards," Remus reasoned, nonplussed.

Sirius glared at him, not in the mood to put up with Remus' jocund demeanor. Rather than take the bait he asked, "Have you had breakfast?"

"You know how much I love Weensy's cooking," he responded with a wolfish grin.

Both men turned towards the sound of the slight crack, "Master Remus called Weensy?"

"You're up early Weensy," Remus commented as he smiled at Sirius' house elf.

"Weensy has not slept this night. Master did not rest, so Weensy did not rest. Weensy is a good elf," she nodded her head for good measure, though she wrung her hands nervously in anticipation of her master's reaction.

Sirius chose not to chastise her; she always took his words so to heart, as tears would swim in her gibbous blue eyes. "Thank you, Weensy. You're a very good elf." She beamed at the praise.

"How about some breakfast, Weensy?"

"As Master wishes. Here or in the kitchens?" There was a hint of censure in her tone. She hated when Sirius insisted on having a meal with her in the kitchen when he was alone in the house.

"Here will be fine Weensy, thank you."

"Weensy -"

"Master Remus is wanting Weensy's clotted cream and strawberry marmalade with his scone?" she preempted.

"Of course, thank you Weensy." With a cheeky grin from Remus and an incongruous wink from Weensy, she popped out of existence.

"She's a gem," Remus turned to Sirius who was still standing in the middle of the room.

Sirius grunted in response, the calm demeanor he'd presented for Weensy's sake no longer present.

"Sirius," Remus sighed deeply, "You have to understand his reluctance to meet with you right away. There is so much he doesn't know about you, his parents, why he was left at the Dursleys. If you don't come to accept his wishes and his timetable you're going to do both of you a great disservice," he advised patiently.

Sirius opened his mouth to retort then closed it abruptly bowing his head and heaving a deep sigh. "I know it's just…" He walked towards the fireplace again, staring at the fire in the grate fixedly.

"What?" Remus prompted after a long pause, as Sirius struggled with his emotions. He turned slightly, Remus now sat on the edge of the chesterfield, his forearms on his thighs, hands gripped between his legs, staring at him intently.

"I'm scared, Remus." His voice was hoarse with emotion and barely above a whisper.

Remus stood and walked towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know you're nervous about what his reaction will be upon meeting you for the first time. Whether there will be recriminations, rejection or even indifference. That he wants time to come to terms with the knowledge that he has a godfather says a lot about his character. He's cautious and according to Dumbledore an intelligent and determined young man." Remus gripped his shoulders in both hands so that he faced him in full. "He's James' son Sirius, but he's also Lily's. I'm willing to bet what little gold I have in Gringotts that her compassion and patience will shine through."

Sirius lowered his head staring at the patterns on the Persian rug below his feet, taking in the words and trying to absorb the comfort that they offered. Sirius heaved a sigh and exhaled, some of his trepidation seeping out on the breath. He just needed to see him, to know that he was hale and hearty with his own eyes. That alone would set him at ease and allow him to wait out his godson's decision to delay their meeting. A slow calculating smile formed on his lips as an idea began to coalesce in his mind.

"Sirius," Remus' voice carried a hint of trepidation. "You've that marauder look in your eye. Don't go doing something reckless and impulsive," he warned.

"Me? When have I ever done anything reckless and impulsive?" Sirius plastered a none-too-convincing look of innocence on his face.

Remus simply arched an eyebrow. "The better question is when haven't you done something reckless and impulsive. Don't do anything that will alienate Harry before you've even had the chance to meet him."

"Pft!" Sirius waved his hand dismissively, "He won't even know I'm there."

Remus groaned and dropped heavily onto the chesterfield, burying his head in his hand. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

* * *

Harry and Ginny arrived at a Ministry appointed Apparation point in London a few blocks from Hyde Park. Ginny had explained how there were several such Apparation points throughout Britain and that each designated area was protected by several spells; a _Muggle Repelling and a Notice-Me-Not_. It turned out to be the perfect day to be outdoors; there were only a few puffy white clouds in the otherwise crystalline blue sky. It had been a few days since he had seen Ginny, and he was surprised at how much he missed her in such a short time. He had a break from his university functions today, so Ginny was taking him to Beaumont Park for a _flying lesson_, and in a few days time they were taking in a Quidditch game which Harry was particularly excited about.

It appeared to Harry that Ginny was uncomfortable with the hustle and bustle of the London streets, and clung to Harry's arm as he guided them across the busy London street. Once they'd crossed the park's entrance the noise of the city seemed to pass away, muffled perhaps by the sheer magnitude of the natural environment that surrounded them. They walked along the lake that divided the commons as they enjoyed the sights and sounds and the feel of the warm sun on their faces.

Ginny guided him towards a hedged fence that stretched across the greens as far as he could see. Directly in front of them was an arched door lined with a verdant leafy hedge.

The doorway looked positively ancient to Harry's eyes. It was massive and made of wood and iron. Across the arch were the words:

_**Welcome those of magic here with eyes to see the door appear**_

_**Tap me once you're almost there; tap me twice I open with flare.**_

_**But tap me thrice and you'll pay the price.**_

"Ginny what's behind that door?"

"You'll see," she replied with a rather sly smile. That didn't bode well for him, he feared.

Looking all around her to ensure that they were not seen, Ginny's wand suddenly appeared in her hand. Harry observed her as she tapped the word '_once_' with the tip of her wand and then the word '_twice_', but the door did not open with '_flare_' or at all for that matter. She lifted her wand again and tapped the word '_thrice_' and quickly side stepped as a gush of water sprayed him full in the face.

"Welcome to Beaumont Park, Harry!" Turning towards Ginny he could see through the droplets of water that were splattered on his glasses that she was shaking with barely contained laughter.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but that's every child's initiation into Beaumont Park. I couldn't very well exempt you from a wizarding child's tradition now could I?" He stood there in shock, water dripping from his hair onto his shoulders. She stepped closer to him, laughing, he was sure, at his dumbfounded expression. He liked that she didn't giggle or simper; her laughter and smile were full and genuine and completely infectious. After a moment he couldn't help but laugh with her. He lowered his head and shook it like a wet dog, sprinkling her with water and making her laugh all the more at his antics.

As he shared in her enjoyment of the moment he couldn't help but wonder if this would have been an experience he would have shared with his parents as a child. Would they have laughed as Ginny was laughing at him now? While the thought made him long for what might have been, he also knew that he would never have known that such a thing even existed if not for Ginny. He decided not to let his mind dwell on how much he had missed with them and instead decided to focus on this experience with wonder, as he might have if he were here with his parents for the first time.

Still laughing, she lifted her wand once again and cast what Harry assumed was a drying charm.

"Come on, Potter. You're in for a pleasant surprise." Taking his hand they walked through the now enlarged entrance.

He stood transfixed, his eyes going from one fantastical sight to another. It was as if his mind couldn't quite grasp what his eyes were seeing. He turned to Ginny, opened his mouth and closed it again, trying to form the words that would convey what he was feeling.

"I think the word you're looking for is: Wicked!"

He nodded his head slowly then turned back in awe. "Yeah, wicked!"

It was as if Harry had stepped back in time. There were witches and wizards dressed in long flowing robes. Some wore pointed hats while others did not. There were children in the air on – he blinked his eyes owlishly – _brooms. They were riding brooms!_ Not the kind of brooms you'd see at the local grocery store either. There was an area not too far from where they were standing that was separated for flying lessons. He took particular notice of a broom being held by an eager young kid waiting for his lesson. Its brushes were made of thick bristled branches, and the wooden handle was thick and knobby in a dark mahogany color. If Harry were to guess the broom was painstakingly hand-crafted, not at all a familiar sight to his modern eyes. In effect it looked like the kind of broom one would imagine a witch would ride on a blistery, Halloween night.

His attention was drawn back to the brooms that were in the air, and Harry was struck speechless in awe at the speeds they achieved." It looked exhilarating. Just watching them made his stomach clench in anticipation. Now this was a form of wizard-travel that he would definitely love to try.

He felt a small soft hand curl into his own and then a slight tug. He looked up to see Ginny half a step in front of him with an encouraging smile on her lips. "Come on, Harry. We need to check in with the Forges. They told me they'd be setting up their cart by the play park, and then I'm going to teach you how to handle a broom."

"Oh, so we're not going to take a lesson with –"

"Oh, no Harry," Ginny interrupted. "That's mostly for pre-Hogwarts kids looking to get a jump start on lessons before term starts," she explained.

"Ah, good. I'd probably feel pretty silly among the munchkins," Harry said relieved.

"Munchkins?" Ginny scrunched up her nose at him in confusion; he found the action rather cute.

"Oh, umm, it's from a Muggle film," he stuttered. "Like a dwarf or a gnome – you know someone small in stature?"

"Ah, gotcha, a Lilliput." Ginny took Harry's hand and resumed walking towards the play park. With her free hand she gathered her hair at the nape of her neck as a gust of wind whipped her hair in maelstrom of fiery strands.

He was momentarily distracted or rather enthralled by her hair. He shook his head to rid himself of the cobwebs; it was his turn to be confused by her choice of appellation. "Umm, Lilliput?"

"Mmmhmm, you know from Gulliver's Travels." She answered distracted as she waved at someone across the green, a schoolmate perhaps.

"Yeah, I know about Gulliver's Travels. I was curious how you knew." He tugged on her hand lightly to bring her attention back to him and what they were discussing. He was nothing if not curious which he considered one of his best and sometimes worst qualities.

"I read it, of course," Ginny winked at him. Was she being purposefully obtuse, he wondered.

"You're familiar with Muggle literature then?" he asked, trying and hopefully succeeding in keeping the exasperation from his voice.

"It's not a Muggle story; it's a wizarding one. Somehow it spilled into Muggle literature. When it was written it was meant as a satire on the state of the wizarding world. It just so happened that at the time it paralleled the conditions of the Muggle world as well," Ginny clarified as she warmed to the subject. "Not surprising, really. It wouldn't be the first or last time our worlds' socio-political conditions converged. It was one of my favorite lectures in Muggle Studies."

It was rather interesting and something he'd love to discuss with her further. He was about to ask another question when he spied the twins. "Why are we meeting up with your brothers again?"

"It's the only way I was allowed to bring you here today." Harry arched a brow at her choice of words. It irritated him that he needed permission of any sort to spend a day as he saw fit in her world. He was an adult and balked at these virtual strangers presuming to place restrictions on his freedom. While he understood their concerns, he was quite capable of looking after himself and making his own decisions. He wasn't too keen on the glamour either, but he had relented only because Ginny had asked him to go along with it. For some reason he found it difficult to refuse her.

Ginny for her part either ignored or missed the frown that had appeared on his face as she continued to explain. "They're playing chaperone - well more like added security really, in case something happens. Though with your glamour it's very doubtful you'll be recognized, but better safe than sorry, my mum always says."

As he and Ginny approached, one of them set a cube on the grass near a sandy playground. They each tapped their wands against the surface of the cube, and Harry gave a long whistle in wonder as a bright multi-colored Kiosk magically sprung up in a loud cacophony of trumpets, fireworks and foghorn blows. A bright banner hung in the air above the kiosk proclaiming _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Proud Purveyors of Pranks, Puns and Practical Jokes Since Nineteen Hundred and Ninety-Eight AD._

They were wearing hot pink vests over neon green shirts and matching purple polka dot ties. They sported outrageous floral print Bermuda shorts and orange trainers adorned their feet. The pair looked absolutely ridiculous and yet so very normal. People started to gather around the kiosk as the twins began to hawk their wares. One twin was passing out order forms, flyers and samples while the other ran the old fashioned cash register.

As they stood at the edge of the crowd, the first twin shoved a handful of sample sized merchandise at him and Ginny, "Cheeri'O, Ol' Chap! Fancy seeing you here with the lovely Miss Weasley. Be a mate and pass these out to the impressionable young masses would you?"

Looking to Ginny who simply shrugged and started passing them out with a radiant smile on her face as children crowded around her. Shrugging his own shoulders, he followed her lead.

While passing out his own set he couldn't help but notice the antics of a large dog at the edge of all the revelry that surrounded the kiosk. The dog would bark, run a circle around the kiosk and then sit on its haunches, tail wagging and tongue lolling. Every once in a while it would sidle up to where Harry was dispensing his adverts and bark up at him demanding his attention, which he would oblige by petting his head and scratching behind his ears before getting back to the business at hand.

They'd been at it for a while before they finally ran out. "Oi, Terrors! I'm off to tutor Harry here on the proper way to handle a broom," Ginny yelled over the noise at the twins. "Meet up with us by the lake when you're done here."

George waved his hand at his sister in acknowledgement while stopping a particularly daring kid from hurrying off with some of the twins' merchandise with a well placed hex, making said juvenile delinquent yowl and clutch his backside in the process.

"Come on Harry; let's find a less congested spot for your first lesson." Taking his hand in hers she led him towards a lake that circumvented the park.

"Ginny!"

Beside him he heard Ginny curse under her breath and turned towards the dark haired boy that called her name, a broom slung over a shoulder and a wide grin across his face.

"Andrew, umm, hi," Ginny greeted awkwardly as Andrew came to a stop in front of them. She tugged on Harry's hand pulling him closer to her. He didn't like the look of this guy at all, and he definitely didn't like the way he was looking at Ginny as if he had some sort of claim to her. "What brings you to Beaumont Park today?"

"I was playing Quidditch with some of my housemates," he tilted his head toward his friends that were standing a few feet away with matching grins on their faces, "when I thought I saw you crossing the commons. My Dad finally agreed to buy me a Nimbus if I could come up with half the money. I wanted to try out for Chaser again this year, and with the right broom I'm sure to be picked."

"Oh, yeah sure, the right broom should, umm, increase your chances." Ginny's tone, Harry noted, was not the least bit assuring of his chances.

Harry was observing the interaction with great interest. This Andrew had an almost puppy dog eagerness about him, wanting to please and be noticed. When Andrew took a step closer to Ginny and lifted his hand to take a hold of hers, Harry placed his hand around Ginny's waist and cleared his throat exaggeratedly.

Andrew appeared to have taken notice of Harry for the first time, giving him an appraising look. Harry was not threatened in the least, not so much by his assessment of the boy as Ginny's reaction to him.

Taking Andrew's still outstretched hand in his, Harry pumped it rather vigorously in greeting. "Hi, I'm Harry."

"I'm so sorry, how rude of me," Ginny stated. She turned to Andrew and Harry in turn. "Andrew this is Harry, and umm Harry this is Andrew we…"

"Were dating last year," Andrew interjected rather rudely. He gave an unmanly little yelp and abruptly withdrew his hand from Harry's handshake, putting his hand as subtly as possible behind his back and shaking it. He glared at Harry who returned his cold stare with a smirk.

"We were study partners, Andrew. We were _not dating_." Ginny's response came through gritted teeth as if this were a very old argument given to a rather dense child. "What I was going to say is that we attend Hogwarts together." Harry could see the storm brewing in Ginny's eyes; if Andrew were smart he'd drop that line of thought quickly.

"Well, I _thought_ we were and so did everyone else at Hogwarts. We went to Hogsmeade together, studied together, and you would sit with me at the Ravenclaw table…"

"This argument is getting old, Andrew, and we shouldn't be having it in front of Harry." Harry inwardly smiled at Ginny's tone of voice as if she was struggling to be both polite and patient.

"But, Ginny…"

"No, Andrew." Ginny turned to Harry, the irritation clearly visible on her face. "Excuse me for a moment, Harry."

Grasping Andrew's upper arm she dragged him a few feet away. While her intention was probably to afford them some privacy and maybe spare Andrew some humiliation, her angry voice carried to where she had left Harry standing.

Harry thought she was a sight to behold. Her eyes were flashing, and the wind whipped her hair about her face as she stood with her hands on her hips and turned the full force of her fury on the hapless boy. He looked just like the puppy Harry had originally described - a puppy about to be reprimanded by its master. The hangdog expression just added to the picture in Harry's head.

"You assumed way too much last year. Sitting together in Study Hall and the Library, does _not_ make me your girlfriend. My sitting with _Luna_ at the Ravenclaw table does _not_ make me your girlfriend. Tagging along with _Luna, Neville and I_ to Hogsmeade does_ not_ make me your girlfriend. Your snog session with Lucy _bloody_ Coosey under the Quidditch stands would definitely _not _make me your girlfriend. Never asking me to be your girlfriend adds to the validity that I am _not_ nor was I _ever_ your girlfriend. Had you asked me to _be _your girlfriend, I would have turned you down."

And then just as quickly as it had come her ire had passed. Ginny gently placed her hand on his arm, looking up at him for understanding. "Andrew, I'm sorry, but we're both too academically competitive to have worked together as a couple. We can be friends but never a couple. I'm sorry. Friends?"

Harry watched carefully for Andrew's reaction. Ginny had let her hand slide from his forearm to his hand and took it in her own; he noticed the very slight tremor her touch evoked. Andrew bowed his head and lowered his eyes to their clasped hands, his thumb caressing the back of her hand. Ginny stood patiently waiting for his response.

Lifting his head he nodded. "Yes, if that's all you're willing to give then I'd rather be your friend than nothing at all."

Ginny gave him a genuine smile. "Thank you."

Dropping his hand and turning back to Harry she missed the determined look that passed through Andrew's face. It would appear to Harry that Andrew had not quite given up hope of dating Ginny.

As soon as she reached Harry she took his hand and turned back to her rejected suitor. Harry smiled at him rather benignly as he released Ginny's hand to place his arm back around her waist.

"If you don't mind, Andrew, I was about to give Harry a flying lesson," Ginny stated with a hint of dismissal in her tone.

Turning her radiant smile on Harry, she gushed in her enthusiasm. "Are you ready for your first lesson Harry? And from the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team no less."

"You made Captain?" Andrew's question seemed to be equal parts awe and jealousy.

Ginny brought up her arm to shine an imaginary badge with her forearm and thrust her chest out proudly. "Yup, the Cup is ours!"

"Congratulations, Ginny!" Andrew came forward to hug a surprised Ginny who returned his hug rather awkwardly.

Andrew smirked at Harry over Ginny's shoulder. Harry mouthed _dream on _and returned the smirk.

Ginny began to extricate herself from the embrace. "Um, well it was, um nice seeing you Andrew. I'll see you at school then." Ginny stated as Andrew finally seemed to take the not so subtle hint.

"Yeah, sure, I'll see you on the Express then." Slinging his Nimbus over his shoulder he walked towards his mates that had been waiting patiently.

Turning to Harry, Ginny hooked her arm through his, lifting the broom to her shoulder. "Ready for your lesson?"

Harry mimicked her position as he answered, "Sure am, Professor Weasley. I'm very eager to see how a witch like you handles a broom."

Ginny's steps faltered at his suggestive comment but recovered quickly enough to respond with her own innuendo.

"No worries then, Harry, I'll teach you just the right way to handle your broom there."

Harry's voice held a very serious note when he responded, "I'm looking forward to it, Professor."

She chose an open spot near the lake that circumvented the park. "In case you fall off your broom, you can land in the water," she'd teased. But Harry had a sinking suspicion that she wasn't joking.

She pulled out her wand and two twelve inch sized brooms from her messenger bag, as she slung the bag onto the ground. Tapping her wand to each broom and muttering, "_Engorgio,"_ the brooms extended to their original form. There was an apparent difference in appearance for each broom; one looked quite a bit the worse for wear.

She handed the sleeker, newer broom to Harry and held onto the older model as she grinned mischievously up at him. "What Andrew doesn't know is that I've been saving my knuts and sickles since I was twelve and made the Quidditch team as Seeker. My parents and all my brothers pitched in the rest as a gift for my making Head Girl. That beauty in your hands is a Nimbus 2001."

Harry couldn't help but smile at her description of the broom he held in his hands. He didn't know anything about brooms, but from an untrained eye and comparing it to the older broom it _was_ quite a beauty. It was sleek and highly polished, and the twigs were neat and long and shaped like a flame at the end of a match.

"A broom is a like a wand. While it has magical properties that enable it to fly, if you're not magical it won't respond to you in any way."

She placed both brooms on the ground and had Harry stand to the left of the Nimbus 2001.

"This is mostly done to get a magical feel for the broom for the first time. I suspect you'll get this on the first try since you've a feel for wandless magic. Just let your hand hover over the broom and say _'Up'_, and the broom will come to you."

Nodding he concentrated on summoning the broom as it smoothly and neatly floated to his waiting hand.

"No, Harry, you need to feel the magic of the broom, not count on your own magic to summon it to you," Ginny reprimanded lightly. "That reminds me; don't think I didn't notice that little shock you gave Andrew when you shook his hand."

Harry's head whipped around to look at Ginny while affecting an innocent look. "I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't, Harry. I'm not mad. He did deserve it for acting like a prat. No fair using your wandless magic to your advantage." She shook her finger at him teasingly.

To this Harry laughed. "Meaning if you could have you would have liked to have done it yourself."

"Precisely. Now back to the lesson." She paused for a moment, biting her bottom lip in that way Harry liked so much,

Harry followed Ginny's instructions this time, making sure to speak clearly as the broom slapped into his palm with a hard smack. He moved the broom to his other hand as he shook it out to soothe the sting.

"Perfect Harry," Ginny praised, then looked at him speculatively. "You know this is a bit unconventional but, would you like to ride with me first to get a feel for it before trying on your own?"

Would he like to have a gorgeous girl pressed against him while riding a broom in the air? _Stupid question that_.

He answered as nonchalantly as he could muster, "Yes, actually that sounds like a very good idea."

Smiling at him, Ginny took the Nimbus 2001 from his hand and straddled the broom then motioned with her head to indicate that he should mount behind her. Harry strode over to Ginny and hoped he wasn't smiling as broadly as he felt at the prospect of riding tandem with her.

He swung his leg over the broom, his front touching her back lightly. He felt a bit awkward not knowing where to place his hands, but Ginny solved that problem soon enough.

"Normally I'd tell you to hold onto my waist, but I want you to get a feel for how the broom maneuvers, so um, put your arms around me and grab onto the handle in front my hands."

Harry noted with satisfaction that Ginny was a bit breathless as she gave him instructions. Taking his time and savoring the moment as much as possible, he put his hands on her shoulders and slowly slid them down her arms feeling the goose bumps rise on her skin at the contact until he reached her hands and then placed his own on the handle as she'd instructed.

"Um, yes, good that's good. Um, well we're going to need to kick off together. "Okay, now shift your weight onto the broom and lift your legs off the ground." As they hovered a few feet off the ground, Harry marveled over the fact that they weren't actually sitting on the broom as slightly suspended over it as if sitting on an invisibly cushioned seat. It was such an odd sensation.

"Ready?" Harry could feel her voice vibrate off his chest and the breathless quality of her voice. He brought his lips to the shell of her ear letting his breath whisper across it. "Ready."

"On the count of three then," was her whispered reply.

Breathing the words against her ear Harry counted off with her in unison. "One, two and three."

All thoughts of flirtation went right out of Harry's head as he felt the acceleration of the broom into the air. He could sense the vibrating magical force of the broom handle on his hands and the exhilarating feel of the wind against his face and the swooshing feeling in the pit of his stomach at the speed. Harry gave a whoop of joy as they climbed higher and higher into the sky. Then suddenly they came to a stop and hovered in place.

"You all right there, Harry?" Ginny had turned her head to look at him, a happy smile on her face.

"Wonderful, brilliant, awesome! That's the most incredible thing I've ever done in my entire life!" Harry was practically bouncing on the broom in his excitement. He brought his hands up from the broom to embrace Ginny from behind. "Thank you!"

Ginny had the most beautiful smile on her face. Harry could tell that she was pleased because she had made him so happy. "Are you ready to do some tricks and see how fast this thing goes?"

"Hell yes!"

She smiled at him wickedly and, lowering herself onto the broom, advised Harry to do the same. He felt a sudden tug as the broom took off like a shot. Harry had never felt so free or so alive as he did at that very moment. The speed, the wind, the power of the broom in his hands and the feel of Ginny in his arms was the best feeling in the world.

She did loop-d-loops, dives, corkscrew-like rolls , and then she did something she called the Wronski Feint that almost gave him heart failure – then he promptly asked her to do it again as he whooped all the way down.

"Are you ready to give it a go on your own now?" She asked after the third Wronski.

"Yes! Though I must say riding tandem with you does have its benefits." Harry waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Lecher!" She growled as she brought them back to the ground.

As soon as they dismounted, Harry took Ginny in his arms and gave her a fierce embrace. "Thank you, Ginny, I can't tell you how incredible that was, and I've you to thank for it."

Harry felt her smile against his chest. "You're welcome, Harry, but that's nothing compared to how you'll feel when you fly on your own." She tilted her head to look up at him, "Are you ready to try it on your own now?"

Harry smiled down at her, and without thought pressed his lips to her forehead tenderly in gratitude. There were really no words to describe how he felt about her at that moment. There was gratitude of course, but also an indescribable sense of tenderness for her that was beyond anything he'd ever felt.

"Yes, I'd like to give it a try." Releasing her from his embrace and picking up the Nimbus 2001 from where it lay on the ground, he straddled the broom. He gave her a cocky grin and following her earlier instructions kicked off and immediately set off into the sky.

He could hear Ginny's laughter as she jumped on her own broom and followed him into the air. It was strange; he felt as if he were born to ride a broom. It felt so natural, instinctual even. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he'd first experienced the sensation of flying with Ginny, or maybe he just took to it like a duck to water.

Once he'd reached a certain altitude he hovered in the air waiting for Ginny to catch up to him. He looked over to see her on her own broom, and for a moment he was struck by how beautiful she looked with her windswept hair, the pink in her cheeks and the happy smile on her face that reflected his own.

Then with a wink and a challenging smirk to Ginny, he brought his chest flush to the broom handle and took off at break-neck speed across the sky. With a confidence and a skill he didn't know he possessed, he performed all the _tricks _that Ginny had done while riding tandem with him, whooping and yelling all the while.

At one point he came to a stop waiting for Ginny to join him. He gave her another challenging grin and Ginny knew exactly what it was he planned on doing.

"Harry, no! You can't just do a Wronski Feint on your first go, that's insane!"

If that was supposed to deter Harry from doing it she'd failed miserably. He was off, pointing the broom upwards and ascending as high as he dared at a speed he couldn't even begin to guess and then spiraling to a stop. He looked at the water's surface sparkling below with a sense of excitement and natural fear as his stomach gave a nervous flip. Then just as quickly he brought his chest flush to the broom handle and began a rapid descent. He felt everything with such intensity; his world focused on the sensations created by flying on a stick of wood that was no more than five inches in diameter and the insanity of what he was doing. He watched as the surface of the water was coming closer and closer. The wind whistled in his ear as the air pushed against his body, trying to dislodge him from his broom. As he descended, he could see clearly the intense color of the shimmering water below him, and, just as it seemed he was about to crash, he instinctively pulled up on the handle and came level with the surface of the lake, never slowing his speed as the soles of his sneakers skimmed against the water's surface. Lifting one fist in the air in triumph he whooped and hollered and then sharply turned as he brought the broom again into the air.

He laughed joyously at the thought that Ginny Weasley had indeed shown him how to handle a broom.

* * *

It was ridiculously easy to find him. All he'd had to do was camp out on the edge of a copse of trees directly outside the wards of the Weasleys' home, cast a tracking charm on the youngest Weasley, and follow her to an alley in what he later learned was on St. Giles Street. A Disillusionment Charm later and he followed her to a tea shop. It was early enough that the street wasn't congested with pedestrians, so he stayed as far away from her as he dared so that his footsteps could not be heard and would blend in with the ambient noise.

Everything he'd done so far had been things he'd learn in Auror training and utilized to his advantage on his missions for the Order during the first war. He'd no doubt, given the current atmosphere in England and the rumors that were bandied about, that his skills would come in handy soon enough for the Order once again.

A few steps from the tea shop she'd stopped suddenly, her hand stealthily inserted into the messenger bag that was slung across her chest and riding low on her hips. She looked into the shop window she was standing in front of pretending to view the wares on display. At one point she turned her head and looked directly at him standing a good fifteen feet from where she stood. He held his breath bracing for the possible wand fight that would ensue if she suspected his presence. She narrowed her eyes, cocking her head slightly to the side, let out a long steady breath and shrugged her shoulders. Once she'd turned away from him and resumed her walk, Sirius released his own breath in relief. The last thing he wanted to do was stun Ginny Weasley. It wouldn't do to alienate the most important link that Harry had to the wizarding world at the moment, nor would it have sat well with him to do so. He'd not gotten a very good look at her face until that moment. His entire focus had been solely set on tracking her movements, and he gave a wolfish grin as he resumed trailing her. His godson had picked quite the looker and a redhead no less.

He wanted to stand in front of the tea shop window to see if she was indeed meeting his godson and not some other bloke but was unsure how the Disillusionment Charm would hold up to the reflection of the window. Disillusionment Charms were tricky; while you were virtually invisible, it was only a camouflage spell, and sudden movement and reflective surfaces often gave away your position with a slight shimmer as the spell worked to adjust and blend to its surroundings once again.

He stood at the edge of the shop, his eyes trained on the glass door. Patrons entered and exited from time to time, and he began to grow impatient. Finally, a good fifteen minutes later, the couple emerged, and his breath escaped harshly from his mouth. It was like stepping back in time, and his heart had not been ready for the shock. _James. Lily._ He watched Lily curl her hands around James' arm and look up at him with a wide adoring smile on her face laughing at something he'd said and James responding with his roar of laughter so full of life and joy. They came towards him and he took a step forward to greet them, his heart pounding happily in his chest until they were almost abreast of him, and he looked into their bright smiling eyes.

Taking two steps backwards into the alley, he watched them pass; the only sound he could hear was the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears. And just as suddenly the sounds of the street swirled all around him bringing him back to the present. It was then he noticed the tears that were streaming down his face unheeded until that very moment. He wiped at them roughly and resumed trailing his quarry.

He followed their Apparation again with the same methods he'd employed previously, and once inside Beaumont Park he found a secluded spot here he removed the Disillusionment Charm and changed to his Animagus form. It always caused him a great amount of laughter to hear his dog form described as a Grim. While his form could very well be confused for such in the dead of night, during the light of day he could not be mistaken for anything other than a large, grey wolfhound.

While no longer under Disillusionment he felt more comfortable being nearer to them as he caught a bit of their conversation from time to time. He'd witnessed Harry's introduction to Beaumont Park, and if a dog could laugh he would have. It was priceless, and he found himself not only liking Ginny Weasley, he also found that he was grateful to her as well. It was something James, Lily, as well as, Remus and Sirius had been looking forward to, and while it was bitter sweet to watch him experience it with someone else and twelve or fifteen years later than they had all intended, it made his heart swell with happiness all the same.

When he watched her brothers, because they could be nothing if not siblings with that mop of red hair, set up their kiosk he couldn't help his exuberance as he ran around its perimeter. Now these were a pair he could relate to. He promised himself that when he returned to Grimauld Place that he would look into their business and see if an opportunity for investment would be feasible.

He watched Harry interact with Ginny and her brothers. A wide smile adorned Harry's face as they joked and teased, and Sirius couldn't help but sidle up next to him, tail wagging in excitement as he took in the crinkle around his almond shaped green eyes so like Lily and the mop of unruly raven black hair so like James.

And when he lay on the grass by the lake watching his godson fly a broom for the very first time, Sirius thought his heart would burst it was so full. Afterwards he watched them lay on the grass watching the clouds roll by on the azure canvas of the bright summer sky, and he felt content. His heart, the heart that became a stone in his chest on the night that James and Lily died, was alive, content, happy. And now that he'd seen with his very eyes how happy and well Harry was, he was content to wait to meet him on his own terms. He could wait.

* * *

_AN: A heartfelt thank you for all the readers who took the time to review. Special thanks to Matt for his long suffering patience in regards to my "atrocious" (his actual word choice) grammar. Our argumentsover plot are particularly invigorating._

_Note: Notice-Me-Not is not an actual canon spell, it is a creation of fanfiction._


	6. Chapter 5 Information is not Knowledge

**Chapter 5 Information is Not Knowledge**

_**Information is not knowledge. Knowledge is not wisdom. Wisdom is not truth. Truth is not beauty. Beauty is not love. Frank Zappa, lyrics to the song Packard Goose**_

"What are your intentions for my godson, old man?"

Albus Dumbledore stared at the implacable face of Sirius Black. It was obvious by his tone and demeanor that he came to Hogwarts ready for a fight.

Sirius had requested an audience with him and stormed into his office intent on seeking answers and assurances. He stood tense and ready to attack in defense of his godson if it came to that. Sirius was undaunted by his former headmaster's long silence, nor did he shift or squirm under his intense scrutiny. Albus had learned long ago that he could turn an altercation to his advantage simply by allowing time to pass in silence thereby dictating the direction of the confrontation. Very few had ever managed to hold his gaze for long before they buckled under his fixed stare.

Sirius, however, was not the least bit disconcerted. His breathing was shallow and his own gaze was fixed determinedly awaiting his response.

Albus sighed, "Peace Sirius. I have no nefarious designs on your godson. My only objectives pertain to his safety and well being."

"Not good enough, old man," Sirius roared. "I've seen what your good intentions have wrought on those I held dear. You consigned my godson to hell in order to keep him safe, and, had his relatives not been total bastards, he'd be dead right now." Sirius slammed his palms against his desk his eyes ablaze with righteous anger. "You left him on their doorstep like so much rubbish and then never deigned to determine his welfare."

Albus lowered his gaze; he could not fault Sirius for his accusations. This was an old argument, one they'd had many times before, and each time the guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders. There was no point in restating his reasons. He knew that he had much to atone for. He also knew that the fate of the wizarding word lay on the shoulders of a young man who may not be ready or even desirous to face his destiny.

"You knew what kind of people the Dursleys were. You knew Petunia's enmity towards Lily and how much she hated magic, and yet you went against James and Lily's express wishes. I will not allow you to play your games with him." Sirius snarled looming over his desk, his stance and demeanor aggressive while he unknowingly projected his magic towards Albus.

"Peace Sirius. Please be at peace," he tried to soothe, but it seemed as if his former student's anger had yet to run its course.

"You played with our lives like a chess master, moving us about the board like expendable pawns. We were young idealistic fools that followed your direction without question. We believed that you were infallible, invincible, the only wizard that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named feared. Dead, so many lives sacrificed for the greater good. Dorcas, Edgar, Benjy, Frank and Alice, Marlene, Gideon and Fabian, Ja …" Sirius faltered over the name, breathing heavily and swallowing the lump that he formed his throat. "James and Lily and for a time Harry."

Each name carried its own personal regrets, but none so much as the last. At least the others were aware of the possible outcome of their involvement in the war. Harry, on the other hand, was a child who had no say in the intrigues of war that were carried out by his word alone. He was charged with leading a war, and with that responsibility came the burden of life and death. Seemingly inconsequential choices would sometimes lead to the most devastating outcomes.

Suddenly Sirius seemed to collapse upon himself as he heaved a great sigh and sat heavily on the overstuffed chair that was placed before his desk. He slumped forward, his hands falling loosely between his legs. "Merlin knows my own impulsive actions led to his miserable childhood; my first thought should have been for him, not revenge against the bastard who betrayed us."

A long silence followed, both men lost in their own ruminations of past mistakes.

"Sirius," Albus' whispered entreaty appeared overly loud in the quiet stillness of his office.

His former student raised his eyes and stared up at him with a sorrowful expression. "I can only promise you this; I will try with all that I am to put Harry's wellbeing first." He stood from his chair and walked over to the window overseeing the black lake, staring out into the horizon.

"I have through my own choices and mistakes been given the mantle of responsibility for the wizarding world and it is I that must think of the need of the few versus the need of the many. If I can spare Harry any pain, I will, but his role in this upcoming war is crucial." Albus sighed deeply turning to face Sirius once again. "I cannot divulge more than that."

Sirius' eyes flared with righteous anger as he swiftly stood from his chair, hands fisted at his side as if ready to do battle with his former mentor. "Not good enough old man!" He roared once more. "Harry is no longer a child in need of a guardian, but if he allows me into his life, make no mistake I will be there to guide him through whatever machinations you have in store for him. I'll be watching you." Sirius stared at him with piercing eyes, studying, scrutinizing him and after a long intense silence he nodded his head and stormed out of the headmaster's office with the same intensity as he had entering it.

For the second time in as many days, Harry found himself lying on patch of sun warmed grass, only this time it was Ginny who lay her head on his stomach while he ran his fingers through her hair. It was hypnotic, the repetitive motion of his hands, the buzz of the insects, the wind as it rustled the leaves on the trees and their even, synchronized breathing. He felt content; it was a feeling he was unaccustomed to. He couldn't deny that he had happy moments in his life, but he'd never felt a sense of _contentment._ Ginny had a lot to do with that.

And yet he was unsettled as well. There were things he needed to resolve and come to terms with, issues he really didn't want to deal with at this particular time. It wasn't in his nature to ignore a problem and hope that it would just go away, but all he wanted to do at this time in his life was go to University and get to know Ginny Weasley. She was the one constant among all the changes that were thrust upon him in the last few days. _You're a wizard, Harry. You have a godfather, Harry. _What was so wrong about being a boy who just wanted to kiss a girl? And he did want to kiss her in the worst way.

Ginny aside, foremost on his mind was his godfather. He was the greatest unknown variable in the myriad of revelations that were hurled at him in the last few days. If he had a godfather, why hadn't he been placed with him instead of his aunt? He'd needed a godfather then; did he need one now? Did he even want to meet him after all this time? There was a part of him that wanted to say '_screw that. _ _I don't need a godfather this late in the game_. _Where was he when I needed him?_' The other part of him, the rational part, at the very least wanted answers. He wasn't sure where it would lead, but he wanted to speak to the man who knew his parents so intimately that they named him Harry's godfather.

He was also a bit wary of Headmaster Dumbledore's reasons for being so insistent on Harry meeting his godfather. While he didn't actually distrust the wizened wizard, he was unsure of his motives. He'd take his cue from Ginny for the time being since she seemed to trust him.

Before he met with Sirius Black, though, he wanted to know as much about him as he possibly could. He didn't want to go into that meeting totally blind; he wanted to be prepared. Who would he ask though? The only person he could question that he trusted was Ginny.

_Well no time like the present._

"Ginny."

"Hmm," came her groggy reply.

"What do you know about Sirius Black?"

That seemed to rouse her as she sat up from her prone position to face him, a curious expression upon her face. "Not much other than what I've heard during dinner conversations at the Burrow and what has been written about him in the _Daily Prophet."_

"Oh," all his disappointment was expressed in that single word as he sat up resting his forearms on his knees and dangling his arms between his raised legs.

Ginny drew up on her knees sidling up closer to Harry and placing a hand upon his forearm. "I'd be glad to tell you what I know, Harry, but it would be mostly things I've overheard through the years, hearsay and such, nothing that would be concrete." She bit her lip and furrowed her brow in concentration. Then her eyes brightened, and she smiled at him in that way that totally lit up her pretty face. "But we could go to the Wizarding Library in Diagon Alley; they have archived issues of the _Daily Prophet _on file that we can rifle through if you'd like."

"That would be brilliant. Would you mind taking me there now?" he asked with excitement.

"Of course, Harry." Putting her hands on the ground in front of her, she used them to leverage herself up onto her feet and, once standing, put out her hand towards him to give him a boost up. Taking her proffered hand he hoisted himself up; the momentum drew him flush against her as he looked down onto her upturned face taking in the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. His eyes travelled next to the amber color of her eyes as they stared up at him so full of life. He then took in the flush of her cheeks, and then his eyes were drawn to her full lips, and, without conscious thought, he lowered his head as she too drew closer, their short breaths mingling, their lips almost touching.

"Oi, lovebirds!"

Harry groaned, slowly raising his head and turning it towards the shouted greeting to see the twins in all their multicolored glory strutting towards them. He heard Ginny's colorful curses and had to agree with each expletive that dripped from the lips that he'd been just about to kiss. He groaned again at the lost opportunity, and then smiled broadly as he looked once again towards Ginny. She'd wanted to kiss him as well, and he took heart that he'd soon be able to follow through on the promise of that first kiss with her.

"We weren't interrupting…," started one twin.

"…a romantic interlude, were we?" finished the other.

Ginny merely growled at her madly grinning brothers but did a rather quick about face. "How'd it go for you today?"

Quite surprisingly her brothers were easily diverted.

"Spiffing, we made enough to set up another production run with a little to spare to go toward a down payment on the shop."

"That's fantastic, Fred," Ginny replied enthusiastically.

"Yeah, but it's going to take a while before we have enough for the full down payment and sufficient stock to open shop." George added glumly.

Fred threw an arm around his twin's shoulder, "Too true my handsome brother, but the mail order business is going like Goblins in a goldmine, and Hogwarts will be opening in a few weeks which will put us closer to our goal."

"Ah, my devastatingly attractive and brilliant twin, you are correct. Just a few more heretofore indefinite sales figures and Bob's your uncle we'll open our shop." George slapped his brother's shoulder.

"That's the idea Forge. Just give it some stick," Ginny encouraged.

Harry lost track of the conversation at _Bob's your uncle. _He watched the siblings interact with a smile on his face. Witnessing Ginny's repartee with the twins was always entertaining.

"Harry and I want to go to the Wizarding Library in Diagon Alley, and you need to give the appearance of chaperoning." Ginny threw into their frenetic banter.

"Perfect, you go to the library, and we can scope out the competition at Gambol and Japes," George agreed enthusiastically.

Linking her arm through Harry's she called over her shoulder, "We'll meet you at the Apparition point."

It wasn't so much a suggestion as an order as the twins seemed to hold back to allow them a good thirty foot head start. "Do they always do what you tell them?" Harry asked curiously.

"Of course, if they know what's good for them," Ginny grinned up at him.

"That formidable, are you?" Harry teased as they strolled arm in arm through Beaumont Park towards the hedged exit.

Though Harry's tone was light, Ginny took his question seriously. "The twins were often the recipients of my bouts of accidental magic when I was younger, mostly due to their teasing and pranks. So they've learned to respect my magical ability."

"Duly noted; never piss off the youngest Weasley," he kissed her temple.

"Too right," she gave a sharp nod to her head followed by a tinkling laugh.

They materialized with a light crack on Charring Cross Road. An elderly couple was standing only a few feet from where they'd appeared, but they paid no heed to the sound or their sudden appearance and walked right past them without a glance their way. Now _that _was a neat trick. He even commented on it as Ginny took his hand and crossed the street to the front entrance of a tatty looking pub.

"That's another Ministry Apparation point, but it's seldom used. Families with children who can't Apparate use the Floo network and those that can Apparate just do so directly into the Alley's own Apparation point. But I thought if you're going to be introduced to Diagon Alley it has to be done up proper and that means through the _Leaky_."

He looked up at the wooden sign that creaked on its hinges declaring the pub's name to be the _Leaky Cauldron._

They stood there for a moment allowing Harry to take in the sight of the dilapidated façade of the building so incongruously sandwiched between the modern record and book shops; it looked as if it had been standing in the same spot for centuries. Again he noticed people walking by and taking no notice of the pub or the two teenagers standing outsides its entrance.

They heard a pair of cracks at their backs and turned to watch Ginny's brother cross the street. They'd changed into what Harry had learned to be traditional wizarding robes, trying to be, Harry assumed, less conspicuous.

"What you waiting for loves…"

"…An engraved invitation?"

One twin held the door to the pub open, waving his hand for the other to precede him, "Age before beauty then?"

Lifting his nose and sniffing with an air of disdain the other answered, "Pearls before swine, ducky." And with that they disappeared into the pub without a backwards glance.

Imitating her brother, Harry gallantly held open the pub door, but before he could form a cheeky comment, she put on a similar haughty air as her brother's preceding him into the pub with, "Beauty before Beast."

Harry laughed and followed her into the dark, dingy pub. He waited while his eyes became accustomed to the gloom; and took a moment to scan the layout of the pub. A bar took up the whole left side of the room while the other half was bisected by tables that were occupied by patrons eating a meal or simply partaking of what Harry assumed was some form of alcoholic beverage in large goblets. On the far side of the pub a very large fireplace dominated the wall and every few minutes would flare up with green flames, and patrons would either gracefully exit the grate or slide across the room on their asses. These were mostly school aged children who seemed to take it in stride as their mothers brandished their wands and eliminated the soot that clung to their cloaks and faces.

Ginny took his hand in hers and began to pull him towards a narrow hallway that led to a large wooden door which exited into a courtyard that was enclosed by a brick wall, each side of which was lined with crates, garbage bins and empty amber colored bottles labeled _Butterbeer_. He observed as Ginny strode to the opposite wall, took out her wand and tapped several bricks in a precise order. The scraping sound of brick against brick echoed across the enclosure as the bricks themselves began to slowly pull away and open a portal into Diagon Alley.

They crossed the archway made by the bricks and entered a world a century back in time. When he was younger Dickens was one of his favorite writers, Oliver Twist and Great Expectations being his obvious favorites. Diagon Alley looked, to him at least, exactly how London would have in the mid-eighteen hundreds - minus the myriad of magical items that were on display. It was absolutely brilliant.

Other than the small glimpse he was afforded from the backseat of a taxi to the train station that would take him to Oxford, he'd not had the opportunity to see all the history that could be found in London. He'd picked out the Tower of London and Buckingham Palace, the former of which was almost a millennium old, so it wasn't as if England was lacking in historical buildings or establishments.

But what added to the ambiance of stepping back in time for Harry were the narrow cobbled streets, the bay windows on the storefronts, the street vendor carts that lined them, the wizards and witches strolling about in robes and pointy hats, the garb under their robes were so old fashioned to his modern eyes. It was all so surreal.

The first shop to his left sold cauldrons and to his right there was an apothecary. If he was in any doubt as to where he was, that certainly cemented it. They passed a Quidditch shop, robe shop, an owl emporium, a book shop and a variety of others before they came to the wizarding bank, Gringotts, towering over the other buildings in the Alley. At the end of the Alley stood _Ollivander's, _the wooden sign proclaiming its wares: _Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. _Harry was surprised to see that the only display in the bay window was a single wand that lay on a faded satin purple cushion; it made him wonder if the wand had lain in its solitary perch since 382 B.C.

At the opposite end of the Alley stood an imposing classically styled building. Though not nearly as large, it resembled the New York Public Library. Two stone guardians stood sentry on either side of the entrance, though Harry had to admit that the eight foot tall dragons were much more imposing than their lion counterparts in NY. When he was twelve or so he'd gone on a field trip to New York City and one of their points of interest was the NYPL. He was like a kid in a candy shop. He'd somehow escaped the watchful eye of their field trip minders and wandered the library to his heart's content. He strolled through the marbled halls, the rows and rows of sleek wooden desks, the vast shelves housing every type of book imaginable. He loved the musty smell of the books and the silence that was broken by a cough, the turn of a page or the scraping of a chair.

Ginny smiled indulgently at his awestruck expression. As she began to tug him up towards the entrance he took a moment to admire the intricately carved, gilded, paneled relief on the massive doors. Each panel depicted a Greek mythological theme.

To the right of the doors an inscription carved in marble read: _The place of the cure of the soul_. Ginny placed the palm of her right hand upon the inscription, and the gilded doors opened wide.

As if anticipating the question she explained, "The library doors recognize the intent of the person seeking entrance. The same inscription was at the entrance to the Ancient Library of Alexandria; unfortunately the Ptolemy's didn't think to use that particular bit of magic. There is no greater treasure than knowledge, no?"

So intent was he on Ginny's explanation that he had taken several steps into the library before he took note of what awaited within. His mind could not reconcile what he was seeing with what his brain knew to be impossible.

"I think the word you're looking for again is _wicked_," Ginny teased him affectionately as she placed her fingers under his chin and closed his mouth. Harry gave her an absentminded nod and then shook his head as if to clear it.

The vast width and breadth of the interior of the library did not coincide with the size of the exterior. The architectural style of the exterior was classical in design, while the interior was positively ancient. Elaborate clay lamps hung from chains from the ceiling, hovering above the only semi-modern convenience of rows of perfectly aligned mahogany tables. Partitioned shelves that held both elaborately decorated scrolls and parchments lined the walls as far as the eye could see. The second floor encompassed the entire library and looked as deep as it was long and housed row upon row of bookshelves filled to the brim. Some were shelved in a very orderly fashion while others were stacked rather haphazardly.

Directly in front of them was a rather large, ornately decorated brass stand carved in the shape of an owl in flight upon which was positioned an equally large and ornate book. Ginny tugged him towards the book, pulling out her wand as she drew near.

Harry noted that the book's pages were old and yellowed with age and _blank. _The book, he noticed, was opened to the middle; Ginny tapped her wand against the page and murmured _**Q**__**uaero.**_ The pages began to rustle and move as if stirred by a light wind and then settled once more. _**Daily Prophet Sirius Augustus Black**__. _This time the pages glowed a bright blue for a moment then words started to appear upon the page in an Old English style. He felt Ginny's hand tremble in his own and then heard her mutter, "Merlin I hate that."

He looked at her askance. Her bottom lip was blood red where she was worrying it between her teeth. He shook her hand lightly in his and then gave it a gentle squeeze. She seemed to shake herself out of whatever had disturbed her and gave him a quivering but sincere smile.

She nodded her head towards the pages which now read: _**Second Floor, Row 12, Table W**_.

"We need to head towards that table. Every article ever written about Sirius Black will be waiting for us there."

They walked a ways towards the magical lift that was like a wrought iron cage. They stepped in, closed the cage and rode smoothly to the second floor of the library. A longer walk took them towards a row of tables similar to the ones that were located on the first floor. Waiting for them at _Row 12, Table W_ were stacks of neatly piled newspapers that were at least two feet high. Ginny sighed next to him. "We probably should've stopped for a bite to eat first; this may take a while."

Ginny sat down directly to the left of the stack and handed Harry the first paper. He gaped at the front page. It had the appearance of what he supposed a 19th century newspaper might look like only the pictures moved. "Umm Ginny, don't know why I'm even asking, but why are the pictures moving?"

"All wizarding photographs move. It will move for a bit and then loop back to the start," she explained absentmindedly as she searched through the paper in her hands.

"Oh and by the way, any mention of Sirius Black will be outlined in the paper in red to make your search easier," she explained without taking her eyes from her article. "Um Harry, I'll separate anything I think you might find pertinent. We can requests copies of any article you might want to keep. They're usually a sickle for each article. I've enough on me for about ten or so articles if you like."

Harry smiled at her in appreciation. He hadn't thought he'd want to keep any articles, but now that she'd mentioned it he was grateful for the suggestion. Then it suddenly occurred to him that he'd like to see if there were any articles about his parents. He opened his mouth to ask her but then closed it. An irrational anxiety gripped him. _Not yet. One thing at a time Potter. Focus on the here and now._ He'd ask Ginny to come back at a later date; there was a certain trepidation yes, but anticipation and curiosity as well.

_Back to the task at hand,_ he thought, opening the paper and rifling through it until he came to a birth announcement in the society page.

_It is with great joy that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black announces the birth of their first born son and heir Sirius Augustus Black on this Eleventh Nineteen Hundred and Sixty_

Below the article was a picture of a sour faced woman, the man sitting at her side was scowling at the camera as if to negate the veracity of the birth announcement. Even the baby didn't look too happy to be clothed in what pretty much amounted to yards and yards of lace doilies. Harry chuckled.

Setting aside the paper in _the do not copy pile_ that Ginny had started, he asked her for another. He found the article outlined in red in the gossip column whose byline was _Rumor Has It._

_B__**lack Sheep Does a Runner**_

_**Rumor Has It by Pariah Prattle**_

_Rumor has it that a certain young dog has left the kennel for greener pastures. A very prominent wizarding family has been heard to disparage the name of their first born pup for his less than purebred proclivities. Sources say, though not officially, that said offspring has been stricken from the family tree and soon will be stricken from the family will as well. Rumor also has it that our wayward little puppy has fled to the loving bosom of another distinguished and prominent family for shelter. Selfsame prominent family has a history of taking in strays, so it's of little surprise that another would be added to their kennel._

What the hell? Harry shook his head; he really couldn't make heads or tale of the article. Taking note of the date, he figured his godfather was about sixteen years old when the article was published. He assumed that the reporter was alluding to the fact that Sirius had run away from home. He turned to Ginny in hopes that she would be able to decipher the cryptic article.

She was worrying her bottom lip again, her brow furrowed as she read the article in front of her. She was sitting crossed legged on the chair with her elbows on the table. She looked rather small, almost childlike in the wide wooden seat. "Ginny, could you read this please? I've no idea what this reporter is talking about. I think she's implying that some kid ran away from home. Since she keeps making dog allusions I'm assuming she means Sirius Black."

She looked up at him, her eyes not quite focused as if she were still concentrating on the article she was reading. She shook her head slightly and then held out her hand for the paper without speaking and began to read. Her eyes skimmed the page quickly and automatically put the paper in the _don't copy pile_.

"Yes, that's probably it exactly. I vaguely remember an article with more detail about that when Sirius Black was exonerated back in my," she scrunched up her nose in thought. "I think it was my second year, but don't quote me on that." She paused in thought again. "I recall reading something about his 'having enough' of his family's pureblood bigotry and going to live with your grandparents, I think until he was of age."

She picked up the next edition from the pile and handed it over to Harry. "Here, I believe this contains the _abridged_ –more like censored actually – trial transcripts, so those articles detailing his life should be in here." With that she returned to her own reading.

_**Sirius Black Arrested**_

_**By Verena Firinne**_

_Sirius Black was arrested yesterday and sent to Azkaban without benefit of hearing due to the horrific nature of the crimes he committed. Sirius Black was confronted by Peter Pettigrew, a fellow Gryffindor housemate, in the middle of a Muggle street. Pettigrew accused him of betraying James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord. The nature of that betrayal is as of yet unknown because Peter Pettigrew did not live long enough to tell the tale. Sirius Black raised his wand and, according to Cornelius Fudge Junior Minister for the Department of Magical Catastrophes, blew Peter Pettigrew to 'smithereens'. _

_Junior Minister Fudge is quoted as saying, __"A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him … a heap of bloodstained robes and a few - a few fragments" The biggest part of Pettigrew they found was his finger. It took twenty members for the Magical Law Enforcement Squad to remove a still laughing Sirius Black from the scene._

Another article caught Harry's eye, though it wasn't highlighted.

_**War Crimes Tribunal Begins**_

_**By Verena **__**Fírinne**_

"_The choices we make today will have repercussions that reach far beyond the personal outcome of those that sit here accused today. The crimes committed against humanity were coldly and malignantly executed, actions so evil, so heinous that we cannot suffer them to be ignored lest we be forced to endure the repetition of these transgressions to be visited upon the next generation. We must temper our condemnation with justice and our malice with mercy." Opening statement by Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, November 10__th__, 1981_

Harry read the trial transcripts more to become acquainted with the atmosphere present after the war than to gain any information regarding his godfather. He wanted to know how a man could be sent to prison without benefit of a trial and that became very clear to him based on the transcripts. Albus Dumbledore as Chief Warlock was present during the proceedings and while he would interject on behalf or against an accused, more often than not he appeared to be the only voice of reason during the trials. He even gave personal avowals of innocence to an inner circle Death Eater, Severus Snape, asserting that the accused had in fact been working as a double agent during the war.

The Chief Prosecutor, Bartemius Crouch Sr., was particularly harsh in his sentencing, though given the nature of the crimes presented Harry could not help but agree with judgments that were handed down. Other judgments, however, appeared too lenient. There were a few confirmed Death Eaters that were known to be in the Dark Lord's inner circle that were handed lifetime sentences when other minor players were given what was termed the Kiss which Harry assumed to be the wizarding world's idea of capital punishment.

Other more prominent members of society claimed to be under a curse that compelled them to perform horrific crimes in conjunction with other Death Eaters. This seemed so farfetched to Harry that he could not believe that such a thing was possible to be carried out on a single person for over a decade. That it would be allowed as a defense or that any credence could be given to their claims reeked of corruption.

He set aside the trial articles in the _don't copy pile _and proceeded to peruse the articles that fast forwarded twelve years to his godfather's escape from Azkaban prison and the resulting manhunt. There were several articles rehashing the war, its end and the trials _ad nauseam_. Almost a year later, it was discovered that Sirius Black was in fact innocent of the crimes he had been accused of. With the help of Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin, who was a friend of James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew during their Hogwarts years, it was discovered that Pettigrew was in fact alive. He had orchestrated his own death that November day in order to frame Sirius Black for his murder and Harry's parents' betrayal.

A tidbit of information that caught him by surprise was the fact that Pettigrew had been living as a rat with the Weasley family for those twelve years following the war. It came out during Pettigrew's trial that he, along with Potter and Black, were unregistered Animagi. Arthur Weasley was called to testify and several articles questioned his ignorance of harboring a known criminal for twelve years; however, after Dumbledore's endorsement of the Weasley family's patriarch, the speculation of culpability died a painless death. Harry made a mental note to ask Ginny about their involvement and to explain in detail about Animagi.

Directly after his exoneration, his godfather gave only one interview to the _Daily Prophet _regarding his time in Azkaban, how he came to escape and why. He gave a scant accounting of how he'd first contacted his friend, Remus Lupin, who had been teaching at Hogwarts at the time, and how he'd convinced him of his innocence and how they subsequently sought the aid of Dumbledore in proving his innocence to the wizarding world. After that one interview, the only mentions of Sirius Black were in regards to his attending Ministry charity events or decisions he'd made in the Wizengamot or donations to various charities. Other than those types of articles, which were rather rare, he seemed to be a bit of recluse.

Putting down the last article with a sigh, he sat back in his chair and stretched his arms above him, his bones cracking in the process.

"Done?" Ginny asked from beside him. She'd long since finished reading and had gone to request the copies of the articles he wanted to keep.

"Mmm," he affirmed pushing his glasses up to his forehead so that he could rub his tired eyes. He felt frustrated rather than satisfied with the information he'd learned. Yes, he knew facts about his godfather, but he didn't feel any closer to knowing the man.

Ginny stood behind him and began to kneed and rub his shoulders working out the kinks that had formed from sitting in the same position for so long and the tension he hadn't realized was there. "Let's go meet the twins at the Leaky. I'm starving, and we can discuss what we've read while we eat. How does that sound?"

Harry tilted his head back and stared at her from his upside down position. She lowered her own, her hair creating a curtain on either side of his face as they smiled at each other. He felt some of the tension pour out of him at her smile.

"Sounds great actually."

They walked back through Alley towards the Leaky in silence. Once inside the Leaky Cauldron it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom inside the pub.

"Weasley," Ginny called out and received a staccato whistle in response. "Ah, there they are," she pointed out the twins who were sitting at a corner table.

"So dearest and favorite sister…"

"I'm your only sister," Ginny grumbled under her breath as she sat across from her brothers as Harry took a seat beside her.

"Yes, well be that as it may, you're still our favorite sister," the other twin, who Harry was pretty sure was Fred, said.

"Find what you were looking for at the library?" George questioned as he popped a chip in his mouth. "What were you looking for anyway?"

Ginny looked over at Harry who gave a slight not to her unasked question. "We were looking at old _Prophet _articles about Sirius Black."

The twins both looked at Harry with identical shrewd expressions on their faces. "That was smart of you," George asserted.

"I'm a smart guy," Harry rejoined, but before he could interject any further Harry was interrupted by the bar keep.

"What can I get you folks?"

"I'll have the fish and chips and a butterbeer please, Tom." Ginny requested.

Tom turned towards Harry for his order. "I'll have the same thanks."

"I'll be back with your orders then."

Once Tom was out of earshot the twins took up their questioning again, "So find out anything interesting?"

"Well I did find an interesting bit of news," Harry leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Oh, do tell," the twins responded in stereo.

"Well," Harry paused for affect. "I found out Peter Pettigrew lived in your house as a rat for twelve years."

The twins sat back in their chairs with a huff, "Damned Scabbers," Fred cursed.

Harry turned to Ginny for her reaction and unsurprisingly she was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "It seems as if I'm always apologizing for forgetting to tell you something or waiting for the right time. To be honest, I didn't know how to interject that into all the things I've already told you in the last few days."

"I'm not upset Ginny, just curious," he assured her.

Ginny smiled at him gratefully then turned to her brothers. "You guys tell it; I'm storied out." She slumped down onto the table cupping her face between her hands.

Harry chuckled at her theatrics then looked at her brother's with an exaggerated expression of excited curiosity.

"Those were dark times…"

"…Well yeah that's because it was nighttime."

"Ignore the man behind the curtain, and listen to the wizard of Devon."

"More like the cowardly lion, if you ask me."

"No one asked you…"

"Self-evident…"

"…my boot up your arse."

Watching the shoving match that ensued made Harry wonder about the twins' sanity. "Gentleman!"

They stopped mid-shove and gave him a wide-eyed look, "Focus."

They nodded in unison and let go of each other's shirt collar, straightening them in the process and smoothing down their robes.

"Sorry," they said in stereo.

"Don't be sorry, just give the man the facts," Ginny interjected from his right. "They become a bit manic when confronted with a serious subject. Solemnity makes them nervous; they don't know quite how to act."

"You tell the story, Gred. I'll interject if you bollocks anything up," Hah, he was right, Fred was directly to his right and George to his left, this should make the ping-pong match that much easier to follow.

Fred gave George a rude hand gesture in response but then turned a serious face towards Harry. "Well, it really was an unsettling experience to know that we'd unknowingly been harboring a Death Eater in our home and treating it like a prized pet for twelve years."

Both George and Ginny nodded at Fred's statement. "Here we all were sitting down to supper one evening when who should Floo call but none other than the headmaster himself wishing to speak to our Dad."

"We didn't know what to think. The winter break had just started, so it couldn't be anything we'd done while at Hogwarts the previous term." George added.

"Didn't stop Mum for giving you an earful though," Ginny chuckled at their grimace.

"Yeah, well that's just a given with Mum, tirade first ask questions later." Fred grinned.

"You mean more like blame the twins first, hex second and ask questions later." This time the twins joined in the laughter at Ginny's words.

As soon as their laughter died down Fred continued with his story. "So anyroad, a half hour later or so our Dad comes home, goes up to Ron's room, comes back down with a sleeping Scabbers in his cage and proceeds to go back through the Floo to the headmaster's office."

"Now we're all really confused and Ron is particularly upset since Scabbers was his pet at the time…"

"I assume Scabbers was what you called Peter Pettigrew when he was a rat?" Harry asked to clarify.

"Yes, he'd been Percy's pet, but pretty much like everything at the Burrow Ron inherited Scabbers when Percy became a Prefect and he got an owl as his reward." Fred readily confirmed Harry's assumption.

"Anyroad, another hour or more later, supper and pudding are consumed, dishes washed, kitchen spotless and we're all at the dinner table sitting in our chairs as if Mum had hexed us there with a permanent sticking charm."

"The fireplace flares up once more, and there is our Dad with Albus Dumbledore in tow, asks for tea and begins to spin the tale that Scabbers is in fact Peter Pettigrew, and that the crazed mass murderer Sirius Black is actually innocent and there will be an inquest in the ensuing weeks where my Dad may be implicated for harboring a Death Eater." Fred seemed to summarize the events in one long breath, so much so that he heaved a deep sigh when he'd reached the end.

Allowing his twin to recuperate, George took up the story. "That we were all pretty much in a state of shock is the understatement of the century. Yeah, it was a shocker to think about Pettigrew hiding out in our house for all those years, but what really killed us was the thought that our Dad might face criminal charges for something he had no knowledge or control of."

"It was a pretty rough holiday for us," Fred agreed. "Nowhere near as bad as the previous summer but pretty damn close."

Ginny who'd been quietly listening to her brother's story cleared her throat lightly, causing them to turn their attention to her. "The accusation that he would knowingly give refuge to a Death Eater was laughable. Dad is rather proud of being known as a blood traitor."

"Dad's view on blood purity is well known and very unpopular in certain circles and the powers that be in the Ministry," Fred added. "The more agitated Mum became as the inquest date loomed, the cooler Dad became."

"Dad is the epitome of the 'still waters run deep' refrain," Ginny input. "People perceive our Dad to be a jovial, affable fellow, and he is, but faced with adversity or threats against his family and you see exactly why he was sorted into Gryffindor."

The twins nodded in agreement at Ginny's assertion. Harry could certainly recognize the pride that Arthur Weasley's children felt for their father. His favorite teacher at St. Jerome, Father Bean, always told Harry to judge a man not by what he says but what he does. It seemed that Mr. Weasley was a man of little words but great action.

"The week of the inquest was horrible. There was a battalion of reporters just outside our protection wards, and the things that were printed in the Prophet were terrible." Fred took up the story again.

George jumped in to add his bit as well. "Dumbledore personally represented our Dad. He came in and pretty much made the blowhard blood purists who had seats in the Wizengamot look like a bunch of fools; it was priceless."

"Dad was of course cleared of all charges," Fred said without missing a beat. "That didn't stop the Hogwarts' student body from giving us a hard time the next term."

"Bugger them!" Ginny exclaimed angrily, then gave the twins a wicked grin. "It sure did give us a lot of inspiration for the most wicked pranks on the worst of the bunch though, especially the Slytherins. That was a great term." Ginny sighed wistfully.

"That's because you're an evil witch," George crowed as the twins laughed at their sister's expression.

Harry waited for their mirth to run its course before he asked what he was most curious about. "So during the inquest did any of you have the chance to meet my godfather?"

It was George who answered. "No actually, our Dad did, and they've corresponded from time to time, a postcard at Christmas, but no we've never actually met him."

That was disappointing. He wanted to get their impressions on his godfather. Dry facts are all he had, and a large part of him wanted to let his curiosity about the man die a quick death - after all the more people he established a relationship with in the wizarding world the harder it would be for him to walk away. But he knew he was just being stubborn. He liked to do things in his own time and his own way, and he was just feeling overwhelmed by all he had seen and heard over the last few days. However, being able to talk to someone who knew his parents and who could give him answers was greater than his stubbornness. Thinking back on his conversation with Ginny he remembered why he'd come to England - for a connection to his past and to the family and heritage he had lost. He certainly wasn't going to let that opportunity pass.

He gave a deep sigh and slumped back in his seat. A few moments passed before he felt Ginny's fingers curl on his forearm. "It will be on your terms, Harry."

"Yeah I know." He looked into Ginny's eyes and saw nothing but compassion and concern in her expression. "My stubborn streak is wreaking havoc with my logic, but my curiosity just won't let it go."

One of the barmaids chose that moment to bring over their orders, levitating the plates beside their respective diner. George rubbed his hands together and proceeded to cut into his steak and kidney pie. "Well, no time like the present, ol' bean; there is an owl post office in the alley. And you can always ask our Dad about his take on Black."

Harry sighed. _No_ _time like the present_. He really was beginning to hate that phrase.

* * *

Sirius and Remus materialized just outside the Apparition point coordinates given them by Dumbledore. He'd instructed them to walk east through a make-shift Quidditch pitch and a copse of trees, where they would come across what the Weasley's lovingly called the Burrow. They reacted the same way most people did when they first came across the ramshackle home: with a bit of incredulity and awe. They turned to each other smiled crookedly and said in unison, "_Magic_."

They crossed the yard, and just before they reached the steps the door swung open to reveal Arthur Weasley. "Good morning, Mr. Black; it's good to see you again, "he gave them a jovial smile as he extended his hand and shook each of theirs.

"Please call me Sirius, no need for formality with our history, and it's good to see you again after all these years."

"Only if you call me Arthur," he turned to the plump redheaded woman that was standing behind him. "This is my lovely wife, Molly. Molly this is Sirius Black and – Oh, I'm afraid I don't know your name."

"Remus, Remus Lupin. It's a pleasure to meet you both. I hope you don't mind my coming uninvited. I was very good friends with Sirius and James in school and I, well…"

Noting his discomfiture Molly Weasley rushed to assure him. "Not at all, we don't stand on formality here. There's always someone stopping by."

Sirius was trying to surreptitiously scan around for a glimpse of Harry.

"My daughter, Ginny, has gone to retrieve young Harry; they should be here momentarily," Arthur answered his unasked question with a sympathetic smile. "In the meantime can I offer you some tea? It's a lovely morning, so we thought we'd have breakfast outside." Arthur gestured towards a table that was set up on the far side of the yard under the shade of a tree a few yards from the house with two bench seats on either side.

"Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you." Sirius smiled gratefully and followed Arthur towards the table. It had five place settings that turned to six with a flick of Molly Weasley's wand. He noted that there was a butter dish along with a few jars of marmalade as well as clotted cream and sugar and lemon for their tea. As ramshackle as the house was, it also had a homey well-cared-for look about it. The scent of honeysuckle hung in the air, and the vines that clung to the trestle on the side of the porch and the lush white and purple hydrangea bushes at its side added to the quaintness of their home.

"I'll just bring the pot of tea, shall I," Molly offered as she walked back into the kitchen.

They made small talk about that morning's _Daily Prophet _article regarding Minister Fudge's bid for re-election until Molly returned with a rather large cast iron tea pot following in her wake. Sirius had been surprised to see that table was set with fine china.

"Tea?" and without waiting for a reply she poured tea into the cup at his place setting.

Silence followed, though not uncomfortably so as they each prepared their tea. Sirius was so consumed by his own musings and nervousness about the impending meeting that he was not aware that conversation had begun between the other three occupants of the table.

He felt Molly place a hand on his forearm; he shook his head to rid himself of the anxious fog he found himself in.

"You've nothing to worry about, you know." Her warm brown eyes bore into his own.

"Pardon?" Sirius asked perplexed.

"He's a fine young man, your Harry." She patted his arm reassuringly. "You've nothing to worry about. I don't think he's at all bitter about his upbringing or the hand that fate has dealt him. He's remarkably well adjusted considering the things he's had to endure and face in his young life," she explained, her voice a soothing balm to his distressed mind.

He felt himself relax a bit more under her words of reassurance; he looked over at Remus who gave him a smile of encouragement.

"Can you…would you mind telling me about him, at least what you know of him?" Sirius asked hesitantly.

He'd not felt this insecure since his childhood. He'd grown into a self-assured man, secure in the knowledge of his station in life. While he abhorred his family's obsession with blood purity, he could not deny the security and sense of entitlement that it provided him within wizarding society. He was not bigoted towards those who did not possess pureblooded status; he _was _however, an arrogant man. While his stint in Azkaban had tempered the condescension of his adolescent self, he could not deny the privileges his status bestowed. His place within the Wizengamot, his wealth, the deference he was afforded by others, and the power he wielded at the Ministry all served to mold him into the man he was today. His social status was more than likely the foundation of his initial friendship with James. They were both from Pureblood families, privileged sons of society. They had a shared commonality that drew them together an arrogance that can only come from the security of your place in the world.

That he was friends with Remus was a testament to his flaunting of the Ministry's and his family's intolerance when it came to dark creatures. He could give a Kneazle's arse that Remus was a werewolf. It mattered not to him. Remus by all accounts and purposes was a brother to him in every way but blood.

"Well," Molly looked towards her husband who gave her a nod to continue, "He's the spitting image of James Potter –"

"- but with Lily's eyes," Arthur interjected softly.

"Yes, they are quite stunning. Such a handsome boy. It's no wonder our Ginny seems so smitten with him. Though he seems to be a bit smitten himself. Wouldn't you say Arthur?" Molly looked across the table where her husband was seated next to Remus.

"Quite." Arthur affirmed a crooked smile affixed to his friendly face.

"I didn't see it at first, of course, because we weren't really looking for it." Noting what must have been the confusion written on his face, she clarified, "The fact that he looks so much like James Potter, the resemblance is quite striking once you're aware of who he is."

"As I told Albus he's really quite the remarkable young man. He's keenly intelligent but so unassuming and self-effacing," Arthur took over for his wife.

"That's Lily in him, no doubt. I told you he was Lily's child, didn't I?" Remus gave a bark of laughter his eyes shining merrily in his scarred face.

"Thank Merlin for that. One arrogant berk is enough," Sirius interjected with a deep sigh.

"Quite," Remus chuckled in response.

A barely noticeable displacement of air and the sound of bickering voices was the only warning they received as Harry and Ginny shimmered into existence a few feet away from the Burrow's porch.

"That was bloody brilliant Harry! That's a thousand times better than Side-Along." Ginny beamed at Harry who was sliding his hands along her arms and back as if to ensure that all of her limbs were in place.

"I still can't believe you talked me into doing that, Ginny," Harry's voice was disgruntled and scolding.

"I had complete faith that you could do it, Harry. Besides, what was the worst that could have happened?" Ginny cajoled, her hands placed firmly on his forearms. Her face lifted up to his with a teasingly open smile on her pretty face.

"Gee, I don't know Ginny; I could have left pieces of you all over England," he countered irritably.

"I'm sure I would have arrived with the _parts_ you'd miss the most," she teased, her eyes gazing happily into his.

"Funny. You're a funny girl." Harry frowned at her disapprovingly but could not maintain his irritation for long at the look of outright admiration that shown in her eyes. He finally relented lowering his head to place a kiss upon her forehead that lingered longer than simple friendship would dictate.

Sirius for his part was transported once again by the sight. It was like looking at James and Lily when they'd first become a couple: the teasing and tenderness that followed their half-hearted bickering. He had no doubt that Molly and Arthur's words rang true; these two were well and truly smitten with each other.

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat, making the couple turn surprised eyes towards the group that was gathered around the table. They'd all stood in place at the table at the sound of their arrival. His godson had just Apparated through the Burrow's wards. How was that even possible?

Noting Harry's discomfiture Ginny gave all those present a welcoming smile as she walked forward, grabbing Harry's hand and tugging him along after her.

"Good morning, all," Ginny greeted. She released Harry's hand momentarily as she kissed her mum and dad who'd walked towards them to greet their arrival.

"You Apparated through the wards," Arthur commented to Harry as he shook his hand in greeting.

"Umm teleported," Harry said rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture so reminiscent of his father. "I teleported, and I umm didn't know I wasn't allowed to."

"Once again you prove that you're only limited by what you think you can do, Harry," Arthur rejoined jovially, as if Harry just appearing inside the wards, something that should not have been possible, was a commonplace occurrence. Sirius was baffled.

"Good morning, I'm Ginny Weasley. It's a great pleasure to meet you, sir." After greeting her parents, she'd taken Harry's hand again and pulled him along in her wake towards Sirius and Remus who were both openly staring at Harry.

It was obvious that their staring was making him a bit uncomfortable, but Sirius couldn't have willed himself to stop if his life depended on it. It was like looking upon James again; the memories painfully flooded upon his heart and mind.

He automatically responded to Ginny's introduction without taking his eyes off his godson, "Please call me Sirius."

Finally tearing his eyes away from Harry, he took Ginny's hand in both of his like a lifeline, flicking his eyes towards Remus as he tried valiantly to keep the tears at bay, a look of pleading in his eyes.

Remus came to his rescue as he diverted attention away from Sirius towards himself. "Good morning Ginny. I'm Remus Lupin, a friend of Sirius and Harry's parents." Ginny was hindered from offering her hands to Remus by the fact that Sirius still held them in his own. She either did not seem to notice or did not want to bring attention to the fact to spare his feelings, for which Sirius was eternally grateful.

He was vaguely aware of Remus taking Harry's hand in welcome but kept his attention on Ginny who was looking at the interaction between both men with a look of warmth in her eyes directed at James' son.

When he felt that he'd reigned in his emotions sufficiently he turned towards Harry once more to note that he was staring intently at Sirius with an indiscernible expression on his young face.

"Hi I'm Harry." He extended his hand, his expression open and friendly and Sirius felt a bit of his anxiety lessen.

Without knowing how, Sirius found himself holding Harry for the first time since that Halloween night when he'd relinquished his godson to Hagrid's care. It was an uncomfortable embrace his chin was pushed up against his godson's shoulder and Harry's arms were at his side. Sirius felt him immediately stiffen, and he consciously made to loosen his hold but his arms would not obey and just as he was about to step away he felt Harry raise his arms and pat him awkwardly on the back. They dropped their arms and stepped away from each other, Harry returned to Ginny's side taking her hand in his once more.

He lowered his eyes, his heart was heavy in his chest and his throat was tight, he cleared it several times before speaking. "I'm – I'm your godfather, Sirius."

Harry gave him a crooked smile, and once again Sirius was reminded of James. "So I've been told. It's good to meet you Sir."

"Ugh, Sir makes me feel so damned old. Just Sirius would be fine."

"All right, Sirius it is then," Harry agreed readily.

"Well I hope you're all hungry; I've made enough to feed a herd of Hippogriffs," Molly interjected happily. "Ginny, help me bring out the food."

"Sure Mum." She lifted her eyes towards Harry. "I'll be right out with Molly Weasley's famous scones." She gave Harry a cheeky grin and followed her mum into the house.

"Well gentleman, shall we have a seat." Arthur lifted his hand towards the table as they all preceded him to the benches. "There's tea in the pot, Harry. Go ahead and serve yourself."

"Thank you, Arthur." Harry poured himself a cup and poured another cup for Ginny. Sirius noted that he even prepared the tea for her with a dab of cream and a teaspoon of sugar. It made Sirius curious as to how long they'd known each other that he would know how Ginny Weasley liked her tea.

"How long have you been in England, Harry?" Sirius questioned.

Harry scratched the back of his head looking towards the kitchen door as Ginny and her mum exited, wands in hand, followed by platters filled to the brim. "About eight days," was his distracted reply.

Sirius himself was a bit overwhelmed. He'd not seen this much food on display at one sitting since Hogwarts. There were platters of fried, poached and scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, fried beans and mushrooms, grilled tomatoes, scones and even crumpets.

"Molly, you shouldn't have gone to so much trouble." Harry looked up at the still standing Molly Weasley who was removing her pinny and banishing it with her wand.

"Nonsense, dear. This is pretty much a typical Weasley breakfast." At Harry's look of incredulity, she pointed towards Arthur Weasley who was currently piling his already full plate with a couple of fried eggs before passing the platter to Remus who was seated on his right.

"As thin as he is, that man has the appetite of a dragon. Where he puts it I'll never know. All of the Weasley's – Ginny included – eat their weight in food at every meal." Molly chuckled as she sat at the table next to Harry and took the platter of fried eggs from Remus, serving two for herself before passing it on to Harry. "Me, I'm a Prewett through and through. If I were to eat like them I'd not fit through the kitchen door. Merlin knows I do so love to eat what I cook, which is _abundantly _clear."

"You're pleasantly plump Molly, my dear," Arthur winked at his wife from across the table.

"And I'm just glad I've inherited the Weasley genes." Ginny winked at her mum as she placed a few links of sausage on her plate to add to the already growing pile of food.

"Oh, I don't know, Ginny. I'm sure you'd look just as beautiful as your mum _pleasantly plump_ too," Harry teased.

Molly giggled at Harry's comment while Arthur reproached, "Charm your own witch there. Potter. One Weasley woman is all you can handle."

"No doubt. I'm not sure I can handle the one I've got," Harry joked back and outright laughed when Ginny smacked his arm with the back of her hand.

"Watch it, _Potter,_ or you won't have anyone _to_ handle," Ginny growled though her words and tone were bellied by the smile on her pretty face.

Sirius for his part was enjoying the easy banter and the comfortable atmosphere at the table. He noted the easy way in which Harry seemed to interact with the Weasleys, though according to Albus they'd only just recently met And if he'd only been in England eight days, how many of those were spent knowing Ginny Weasley? He must have met her a mere few days after he'd arrived, surely not enough time to establish their current level of comfort. They acted like a couple, though Sirius doubted that they were, but they certainly seemed to be going in that direction all ready.

They enjoyed their meal and each other's company, the conversation light and relaxed. Sirius asked about Arthur and Molly's children and Molly launched into a vivid description of each of her sons, their chosen professions, accomplishments and romantic interests or lack thereof. By the end he was shocked to learn that they had sevenchildren, with Ginny the only girl. Molly bragged about Ginny with the same enthusiasm that she extolled on her sons, much to her daughter's embarrassment if the blushes she gave in response were any indication. There was no doubt in Sirius' mind that Molly Weasley was very proud of her children. Arthur added very little to the conversation, just an interjection here and there, but Sirius could tell he was no less proud of his children by the wide grin upon his face.

All the while Sirius kept an eye on the interaction between Harry and Ginny. They would bow their heads towards each other talking in whispers, smiling and laughing. Every once in a while their hands would disappear beneath the table for a brief moment and then return to their meal.

After Molly and Ginny had cleared the plates and platters, banishing them with their wands to be washed in the kitchen, Molly poured rich dark coffee into their cups from a large coffee press. The clinking of spoons was a pleasant sound to fill the silence. Harry had a delighted look on his face when he took his first sip and thanked Molly for the coffee. She beamed with pleasure at his gratitude.

Harry looked at Sirius with a crooked smile. "I bet you've a fair few questions you'd like to ask me"

Sirius gave a loud bark of a laugh at Harry's statement. "A fair few."

"Well fire away; I have a fair few myself. Though truth be told, I've never talked so much about myself in my life than I have the last three days." Harry gave Sirius a self-deprecating smile.

"Well," Sirius paused to gather his thoughts, nervous once more about the enigma that was his godson. "I'm not really curious about where you've been, how you came to be in England and finding out about being a wizard; Albus filled me in about all those details pretty thoroughly, though I may have questions here and there. I'm much more curious about _you_."

Harry nodded his head in understanding but did not offer a reply to Sirius' unasked question. "I know a few details about you as well. Ginny and I went to the wizarding library and read quite a bit about you from archived _Prophet_ articles."

Sirius was taken aback by Harry's revelation. He wondered what he'd taken away from those articles.

"I'd, well I'd like to get to know you, but that's something that only time and association can remedy," Sirius tried to explain as Harry's intense green eyes seemed to be boring into his as if to gain his measure, it was disconcerting.

"You're a grown man, Harry. I know you don't _need_ a godfather at this point in your life, but I'd like to be a friend," he hoped that the desperation he felt was not evident in his voice.

At this Harry gave Sirius a wide smile. "I'm curious about you as well, and I could always use a friend," at this Harry paused and looked at Ginny who gave me a barely perceptible nod. "I – I do have some questions to ask you – about my parents," Harry cleared his throat and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

"Ginny told me a bit about what's known about their deaths and why, I – I guess, I'd like to know what happened, what _you _know of that night, and why." Harry looked at Ginny again their hands disappearing from view under the table.

"Merlin," Sirius let out a breath, he wasn't really prepared for that question. He should have been. Merlin knows he'd had the conversation in his head a thousand times before this meeting, but imagining it and being confronted with it were two completely different things.

It was Remus who broke the silence, "To answer the latter question we'll have to talk about the former first."

Sirius turned sharply towards Remus grateful for his friend's intercession on his behalf.

Harry turned serious eyes towards Remus, staring at him with the same intensity that he'd previously given to Sirius. "That makes sense. I want, no I need, to know what happened."

"Harry," Arthur Weasley waited for Harry to turn to him before continuing. "Why don't the three of you take a walk down by the river, give you all a chance to become acquainted, without having us under foot."

Sirius noted how Harry exchanged an unspoken conversation with Ginny, who nodded her head and gave him an encouraging smile. Harry stood, bending at the waist to give Ginny a peck on the cheek before looking towards himself and Remus. Extending his arm he motioned for them to follow in his wake towards the river.

They walked in silence towards the copse of trees that would, Sirius assumed, lead them to the river, allowing him time to gather his thoughts. He knew that he could not deny Harry the knowledge of his past and the link to his parents. He deserved to know what had happened that terrible night and the role he played in it. He only hoped that after he heard the story he had to relay that Harry could forgive him the sins of his past, the sins that had robbed Harry of a happy home. If Harry decided that he didn't want Sirius in his life once he related the events that led to James and Lily's death, then so be it, he'd accept his decision. _What will be will be_. Merlin, the thought alone made him catch his breath painfully.

He'd survived the anguish of the death of his dearest friends, betrayal by the hands of another, and endured the desolation of incarceration, but he feared that Harry's repudiation would be the one blow he could not overcome.

* * *

Harry sat in stony silence, his head in his hands.

_I chose revenge over duty and responsibility to you._

_I killed James and Lily._

The words were a constant loop through his mind, and he didn't know what to do or feel about them. Standing abruptly he walked to the water's edge much as he'd done that night with Ginny, trying to clear his mind.

He tried to conjure some emotions from the narrative of events that Sirius and Remus had given him, but the truth was he had none. It was like reading a book. He could conjure the emotions, but he could not internalize them. They did not belong to him; his parents were a like figment of his imagination, a child's fantasy.

He stared unseeing into the dark flowing waters of the river. He didn't hate Sirius Black for his role in his parents' deaths. Thinking about it logically, Sirius had not been much older than Harry was now.

_I killed James and Lily._ Fact: Sirius Black did not kill his parents. Voldemort cast the curse that killed them. His parents and Sirius made the choice to trust Peter Pettigrew. They made what at the time seemed the most prudent decision to make the least likely candidate the secret keeper. Unfortunately it cost them their lives.

_I chose revenge over duty and responsibility to you. _True, his life would have been vastly different had he been raised by his godfather, a man who knew and loved his parents and was devoted to him. He wouldn't have considered Harry a freak_,_ wouldn't have abused and neglected him, and wouldn't have thrown him in a closet like so much rubbish or left him on the doorstep of an orphanage.

But would it have been for the better? Would he have lived with his godfather in hiding from a world that considered him a savior? Sure, he would have grown up knowing he was a wizard and attended Hogwarts at eleven like all wizarding children; but would he have been safe? Would he have lived under constant scrutiny? Would people expect him to live up to something that happened when he was barely out of diapers and had no recollection or control over?

Who knew? He certainly wasn't going to second guess or be bitter about a life that could have been better but also could have been much worse than the one he had lived up to that point. His experiences had molded him into the man he was today, and he thought he'd turned out pretty damn good.

Yeah, his godfather had made some bad decisions with some pretty fucked up consequences, but he did not hate him for it.

What he still did not understand was why his parents had been targeted in the first place. Sirius said that they had defied the Dark Lord, a guaranteed death sentence, and yet they'd escaped him three times. But surely they were not the only ones? So why would Voldemort target his parents specifically?

Heaving a deep sigh he returned to the conjured armchair. "I don't blame you…"

"I blame myself," Sirius growled.

"I don't blame you," Harry repeated forcefully. "I don't hold you responsible for their deaths. The fault lies at the feet of Pettigrew and Voldemort." Sirius and Remus winced at the mention of Voldemort's name, something Harry didn't quite understand. It was a ridiculous name, it sounded like some sort of foot fungus for fuck sake.

He stared intently into his godfather's eyes willing him to see the truth of his words. Sirius dropped his eyes. "I will live with the guilt for the rest of my life."

Harry had to strain his ears to hear the whispered, anguished words. "The only thing you are guilty of is trusting one of your best friends. That's not exactly an unforgivable sin. Did you make the wrong choice? Yes. But there is no way you could have known Pettigrew would betray my parents. If you want to hold yourself responsible, remember that my parents also put their trust in him, so they are just as culpable as you."

After a long moment without lifting his head, Sirius nodded. A pregnant pause followed where the only sound that could be heard were the rivers currents and the rustling of the leaves in the wind.

"I've a question though," Harry interjected in to the silence.

Sirius nodded his head in assent. When Harry remained quiet Sirius lifted his head and gave his godson an inquisitive look.

"Why my parents? Why did this Voldemort go after my parents, and why would he kill me? I mean I was just a baby. What threat could I have possibly posed?"

Sirius' eyes flicked to Remus before answering, "At first we, James and I, assumed there was an informant among the Death Eaters, someone that only answered to Dumbledore. We assumed that the mole told Dumbledore that they were being targeted. It wasn't until a few days before we cast the Fidelius Charm that Dumbledore told James and Lily the truth."

When his godfather didn't elaborate, Harry sighed in exasperation and prodded, "What truth was that?"

"Dumbledore was the recipient of a prophecy."

Harry snorted at the pronouncement, "A prophecy?"

"He was present when a Seer went into a trance and related a prophecy that was quickly approaching; there were two possible candidates: your parents, as well as another couple, Frank and Alice Longbottom."

Harry raised a skeptical brow. "Right." He drew out the word incredulously. "So on some wacko's word my parents went into hiding over a prophecy where they were _possibly_ involved? What a load of horseshit."

Sirius opened and closed his mouth as if trying to come up with a response to Harry's skepticism.

"Harry, you weren't raised in our world. Prophecies, while not commonplace, are taken very seriously; there is even a hall of records at the Ministry where such things are kept, though it's not common knowledge. You shouldn't scoff at them out of hand. They are quite real." Remus gently admonished when Sirius was unable to respond to Harry's derision of what he took very seriously.

Harry sighed deeply, trying to take control of his cynicism over the absurdity of what he was hearing. He was a logical person and logic dictated that prophecies were nothing more than the spoutings of a charlatan. "I'll suspend disbelief for the moment. Please continue."

Remus nodded his head in acceptance of Harry's temporary acquiescence. "I wasn't aware of the circumstances behind your parents' sequestering, only that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had targeted them for extermination and that they were going into hiding. I didn't know where or when it would take place, only that they would be in hiding for an indefinite time."

Sirius cleared his throat gruffly. "As you know from the articles from the _Prophet_ and to my eternal shame we thought that Remus was the traitor, so he didn't know about the prophecy until I escaped from Azkaban and told him everything I knew of the events. I told him about the prophecy, our switching secret keepers, everything."

"Yes, I know. We've already gone through all of this. I just can't believe that my parents went into hiding over a ridiculous prophecy that may or may not have been about them," Harry bit out exasperated with the whole conversation. This was just too ridiculous to be believed.

"Regardless of whether or not you believe in prophecies, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did!" Sirius, Harry could tell, was trying to rein in his impatience with his godson.

Something occurred to Harry, "Wait a second. How did Voldemort…" Sirius and Remus had been wincing every time Harry had mentioned Voldemort, and he'd about had it. "Oh for fucks sake; it's just a name! How did Voldemort know about the prophecy if Dumbledore was the only one who heard it?"

"According to Dumbledore a Death Eater overheard part of the prophecy and told He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named what he'd heard."

"Let's say I believe that for now, and let it go at that. Do you know what the prophecy said?" Harry asked, the disdain evident in his voice.

Sirius opened his mouth to retort but closed it when he felt Remus' hand upon his shoulder. Remus who had been quietly listening to the interaction between Harry and Sirius chose to respond to Harry's comment.

"Harry, I know you mean no disrespect to your parents' memory. I don't expect you to believe the prophecy out of hand, but your derision in regards to the prophecy and your parents' reaction to it gives that impression. I know you don't believe in it, but Dumbledore, your parents and Sirius and more importantly He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did."

Harry absorbed his words and took them to heart. He didn't realize why his reaction to the prophecy affected Sirius. He truly meant no disrespect, but his attitude of disbelief and contempt gave that impression.

"I'm sorry; I didn't realize how my reaction would be construed. I'm not by nature a fanciful person. I'm ruled by logic, and I rarely believe what I'm told out of hand. I meant no disrespect to their memory." Harry's tone was conciliatory and respectful.

"I'm sorry for my reaction as well; it's still painful even after all these years." Sirius was equally contrite for his behavior to Harry's attitude towards the prophecy. It was very evident to Harry that Sirius was still grieving for his friends.

"Do you know what the prophecy was about, the exact words?" Harry asked again.

Sirius and Remus shook their heads. "No," they said in unison.

Sirius gave a disgruntled growl. "Only Dumbledore is aware of the exact wording. Neither the Seer, nor the Death Eater that told Voldemort knows the full content."

Harry was surprised by that particular revelation. "My parents never told you?"

Sirius shook his head. "No. James told me they would honor Dumbledore's wishes that they keep the knowledge to themselves. They only told me that you were involved."

Harry sat with his head bowed and hands dangling between his knees contemplating his godfather's words. It seemed the more he pursued information, the more questions he had. The facts he'd attained so far about his godfather, while edifying, didn't really bring him any closer to knowing the man himself or bring him any closer to knowing the full truth about his parents' deaths.

While he didn't believe in prophecies, his parents had died to prevent its occurrence, and the only one who knew its full scope was Dumbledore himself. More questions.

He'd have to go to Hogwarts as he'd promised Ginny and talk to Dumbledore; he owed himself and his parents that much.


End file.
